The dining room of Wayne Manor glowed with warm light, silver of the spoons, forks and knives gleaming against the dark mahogany table.
Alfred had outdone himself with the meal - roast duck with sauce, seasonal vegetables, and a selection of side dishes that would have impressed even the most discerning food critic.
Bruce Wayne sat at the head of the table, his posture relaxed yet commanding - a stark contrast to his caped persona.
To his right sat Clark Kent, glasses perched on his nose, maintaining the illusion of the mild-mannered reporter even among friends who knew his secret.
Beside Clark was his cousin, Kara Zor-El, twenty years old, her blonde hair pulled back in a casual ponytail, still adjusting to Earth customs after only a few months on the planet.
On Bruce's left, Dick Grayson was engaged in animated conversation with their most unusual dinner guests:
John Constantine, who looked distinctly uncomfortable in clean clothes, and Manny, the angel who maintained his human appearance despite no longer hiding his true nature from those present.
"So you've literally been around since the beginning of time?" Dick asked Manny, leaning forward with undisguised fascination. "Like, you saw dinosaurs and everything?"
"Time is... different for angels, sometimes faster and sometimes slower when experienced," Manny replied carefully, cutting his duck with precise movements. "But yes, I have witnessed much of Earth's history."
"Totally aster," Dick grinned, earning a raised eyebrow from the angel. "That means awesome. Just without the 'dis' part."
"I'm familiar with English," Manny said dryly. "Just not your particular... modifications of it."
Constantine snorted into his wine glass. "Don't mind him, lad. Angels aren't exactly known for their sense of humor. Too much time spent singing hosannas and whatnot."
"That is a gross oversimplification of celestial duties," Manny replied stiffly.
"See what I mean?" Constantine stage-whispered to Dick, who suppressed a laugh.
Bruce cleared his throat. "Perhaps we could focus on the matter at hand. Manny, you were explaining the hierarchy of angels?"
"Yes." Manny seemed grateful for the redirection. "As I was saying, the angelic host is organized into several tiers. At the top as I said last time are the Demiurgic Archangels - Michael, Lucifer, and Gabriel - who helped shape Creation itself."
"And Samael is one of these?" Clark asked, his expression serious.
"Yes. He carries the same grace as that of the Lightbringer, making him equal to Lucifer in power and function, though different in... temperament."
"Different how?" Bruce pressed.
Manny hesitated. "Lucifer was cold, calculating. His rebellion was born of principle - a rejection of humanity's perceived flaws and God's love for them, granting them free will over him. Samael is... more human in his thinking. More emotional. Potentially more unpredictable."
"That doesn't sound reassuring," Clark muttered.
Kara, who had been quietly absorbing the conversation, finally spoke up. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around all this. On Krypton, we believed in Rao - our sun god. But you're saying these archangels are... above that?"
Constantine leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine. "Love to break it to you, sunshine, but your Rao was created by Lucifer. Well, not directly. But the light that formed your sun god? That came from the Morningstar himself."
Kara's eyes widened. "That's... that can't be right. Rao was the creator deity in Kryptonian religion."
"Most religions get the details wrong," Constantine shrugged. "No offense. But the cosmic hierarchy's a bit more complicated than most holy books let on."
"Constantine," Bruce warned, noting Kara's discomfort.
"What? She asked." Constantine took another sip of wine. "Look, I'm not saying your Rao wasn't real or important. Just that in the grand scheme of things, he was a few rungs down the cosmic ladder from the likes of Lucifer or Samael."
"I never really worshipped Rao," Kara admitted, recovering her composure. "But it's still... a lot to process."
Dick, who had been following the conversation with rapt attention, turned back to Manny. "So if Samael is this powerful, why hasn't he, I don't know, done anything major yet? Not that I'm complaining," he added quickly.
"His vessel," Manny explained, having been there during the Spectre battle to notice it from a distance when it wasn't hidden beneath celestial grace. "His human body cannot fully contain his power. Using too much at once would destroy it."
"Like overloading a circuit," Dick nodded, understanding.
"A crude but apt analogy," Manny agreed.
Bruce exchanged a glance with Clark. They had discussed this privately - the potential threat Samael posed, but also the apparent limitations on his power. It was small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.
"And there's no way to... I don't know, make his vessel stronger?" Dick asked.
"Only the Presence could create a vessel capable of fully containing a Demiurgic Archangel," Manny replied. "It is beyond even angelic capability."
Constantine snorted. "Which means Junior's probably trying to get Daddy's attention. Angels and their father issues - it's always the same story."
"You would do well to show more respect," Manny said coldly.
"Respect is earned, mate, not-"
Constantine's retort was cut short as Manny suddenly gasped, his face contorting in pain. He clutched his head, his body rigid with tension before he toppled sideways out of his chair and onto the floor.
"Manny!" Dick was the first to react, leaping from his seat and kneeling beside the fallen angel. Constantine was only a step behind, his earlier irreverence replaced by genuine concern.
"What's happening?" Bruce demanded, already on his feet.
"I don't know," Constantine replied, his hands hovering uncertainly over Manny's convulsing form. "Some kind of angelic seizure - I've never seen anything like it."
Manny's eyes were wide open but unseeing, his mouth working soundlessly as if trying to form words. His body trembled violently, and a faint glow began to emanate from beneath his skin.
"Should we try to hold him down?" Dick asked, looking to Constantine for guidance.
"No," Constantine warned. "If his true form starts breaking through, touching him could incinerate you."
Clark had moved to stand protectively near Kara, both of them watching with concern but maintaining distance as advised.
After what seemed like an eternity but was probably less than a minute, Manny's convulsions began to subside.
His breathing remained labored, and sweat beaded on his forehead, but he seemed to be regaining control.
"Manny," Constantine said cautiously. "Can you hear me? What happened?"
The angel's eyes focused slowly, recognition dawning in them. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and strained.
"The Palace... the Palace of God has been destroyed."
A stunned silence fell over the room.
"What?" Bruce was the first to find his voice. "How is that possible?"
"Samael," Manny whispered, struggling to sit up. Constantine and Dick helped him back into his chair. "The new Lightbringer... Samael Luthor. He's done it.
The angels... all of Heaven is in chaos. Panic. Confusion. Rage. I can hear them all - their voices crying out in fear and anger."
"You're saying Samael destroyed God's... house?" Kara asked, trying to comprehend the magnitude of what she was hearing.
"Not just a house," Manny corrected weakly. "The center of Creation. The seat of divine power. The place where the Presence manifests most directly in our realm."
Constantine whistled low. "Bloody hell. The kid's got bigger balls than I thought."
"This isn't a joke, John," Bruce snapped. "If what Manny's saying is true-"
"It's true," Manny confirmed, his voice growing stronger. "I felt it. Every angel in Creation felt it. The Palace is gone, replaced by a tower of cold light that will burn for eternity - a monument to Samael's rage."
Clark had gone very still, his head tilted slightly in the way that indicated he was using his superhearing. His expression darkened.
"I can hear him," he said quietly. "Samael. His heartbeat. It's back in range."
"Back?" Bruce questioned sharply.
"I've been... monitoring him," Clark admitted. "His heartbeat sometimes disappears - I thought he was moving out of range, but now..."
"He was in Heaven," Manny confirmed. "And now he's returned."
Clark's jaw set in a determined line. "I'm going to confront him."
"Clark, wait-" Bruce began, but the Kryptonian was already moving toward the door.
"If he's powerful enough to destroy God's palace, who knows what he might do next," Clark called over his shoulder. "I need to at least try to talk to him."
"I'm coming with you," Kara declared, following her cousin.
"Kara, no-" Clark started to protest.
"He's as powerful as the being who created Rao," she said firmly. "I want to see him for myself, besides I won't let you go against someone that powerful alone."
Before anyone could argue further, Clark had vanished in a blur of speed, Kara right behind him. The sound of them breaking the sound barrier echoed in the distance seconds later.
"Well, that's just bloody perfect," Constantine muttered, reaching for the wine bottle. "Superman confronting an angry archangel. What could possibly go wrong?"
Bruce was already moving toward the grandfather clock that concealed the entrance to the Batcave. "Dick, suit up. Constantine, help Manny if he needs it. We're going after them."
"On it," Dick replied, all traces of the playful teenager gone as he shifted into Robin mode.
As Bruce disappeared into the hidden passage, Constantine turned to Manny. "You up for another divine intervention, or should I handle this one solo?"
Manny straightened, his dignity returning despite his obvious discomfort. "I will accompany you. Though I fear there is little either of us can do if Samael truly loses his temper."
"Cheery thought, that," Constantine sighed, downing the last of his wine. "Let's hope the Boy Scout doesn't push him too far."
----------------------
Rain poured from the night sky over Gotham, sheets of water cascading down the sides of skyscrapers and turning streets into shallow rivers.
Atop one of the city's tallest buildings, Samael materialized in a flutter of unseen wings.
His human body, which he had left safely in the Fourth Heaven's healing rivers during his audience with the Presence, was now completely soaked within seconds.
His expensive suit clung to him, water dripping from his hair and running in rivulets down his face.
He made no move to seek shelter, instead tilting his head back to gaze at the storm clouds above.
The rain matched his mood - cold, relentless, overwhelming. His expression remained impassive, but internally, frustration roiled like the thunderheads above.
He had gambled everything on a direct appeal to the Presence, and he had gained... nothing.
No perfect vessel. No explanation for his existence. Just a cryptic warning about a mother he hadn't known existed until today.
He hadn't intended to destroy the Palace. Not really. But the silence had been too much - the refusal to give him what he needed, what only God could provide.
The explosion of power had been as much a surprise to him as to the Host of Heaven, a release of pent-up frustration that had manifested in spectacular, destructive fashion.
Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the city in stark white for a brief moment. Thunder followed almost immediately, the sound reverberating through his chest.
Initially, he hadn't dared approach Heaven directly.
His plan had been more subtle - to make the Presence call for him, to come from a position of being sought rather than seeking.
But as he had contemplated his own nature more deeply, confidence had grown within him.
He was, after all, an amalgamation of God's favorite creations: the Lightbringer's grace merged with a human soul.
That unique combination had given him the courage to confront the Creator directly.
And what had he received for his boldness? Confirmation that he was indeed beloved - the Presence's favorite creation - but nothing that actually helped his situation.
Again, No perfect vessel. No solution to the slow, inevitable destruction of his human body.
The problem was maddeningly specific. A suitable vessel needed to meet two critical criteria:
First, it had to be human. The nature of his grace, as created by God, meant that archangels could only possess human bodies without instantly destroying them.
Second, and more problematically, it needed to be compatible with his specific grace and soul - a vessel from a pure bloodline combining descendants of both Cain and Abel.
The issue wasn't simply one of durability; even if he could somehow create a vessel as durable as the entire multiverse, without the proper compatibility, it would still burst like a balloon under the pressure of containing an archangel.
And only God Himself could create such a vessel. Not Samael, not the other archangels - no one else in all of Creation had that power.
A particularly loud crack of thunder broke through his thoughts, and Samael realized the storm was intensifying with his emotions.
He forced himself to calm down, to rein in the power that was unconsciously affecting the weather above Gotham.
This reality - this totality that encompassed the DC Multiverse - was different from the one his grace remembered.
In that other reality, Yahweh's aspect of Creation, known as Chuck, had written himself into the framework of Creation.
Since the primordial grace of archangels was made from Chuck's own essence, that grace, when integrated into the totality, made that reality contingent upon it.
What that meant, in practical terms, was that if Samael were to die, this Creation would unravel.
In the other reality, even when archangels died, Chuck's continued existence had provided stability since He Himself was also in the framework, the burden falling solely on when the other archangels died.
But here, there was no such failsafe. Samael was the sole stabilizer.
The consequences of a Demiurgic Archangel's death were catastrophic.
If Michael Demiurgos died, Creation would be destroyed by the release of his infinite power.
If Lucifer Morningstar perished, people would begin to go mad, and Creation would descend into chaos - without the Rebel, the opposition to God's way, humanity would lose their fear of evil, as Hell would cease to exist.
No more punishment meant people would no longer fear disobeying God.
Gabriel's death would cause all causality to collapse into chaos.
These were the stakes that made the situation with Asherah so delicate. He couldn't kill her, even if he wanted to - which he wasn't sure he did.
She had yet to give him any reason beyond Yahweh's cryptic warning, the true meaning of which remained only His to know.
Samael was so deep in thought that he almost missed the sound of cape fabric snapping in the wind behind him.
Almost, but not quite. His angelic senses detected the new presence immediately, though he chose not to acknowledge it.
"I'm not in the mood for visitors," he said without turning, his voice carrying easily over the storm.
"Too bad," came the reply, "We need to talk."
Samael's eyes began to glow with hellfire as he slowly turned to face the Man of Steel.
Superman hovered a few feet above the rooftop, arms crossed over his chest, eyes glowing red with barely contained heat vision - meant as a warning, yet to Samael, betraying Superman's worry and though he won't admit it, instinctual fear of him.
"About what, exactly?" Samael asked, hands casually in his pockets despite being soaked to the skin.
"The weather? Gotham's crime rate? Or perhaps you'd like restaurant recommendations? I know a lovely little place that serves the best clam chowder in the city. I personally only eat the pork free version, but they have other variations as well if that's not to your liking."
"About what you just did in Heaven," Superman said firmly. "Destroying the Palace of God isn't exactly a minor incident."
"Ah, that." Samael's tone remained conversational, but the hellfire in his eyes intensified. "News travels fast. I suppose your angel friend felt it? All angels would have."
"What were you thinking?" Superman demanded, descending to stand on the rooftop but maintaining a cautious distance. "Do you have any idea what kind of consequences your actions could have?"
"I was thinking," Samael replied, his pleasant tone belied by the dangerous light in his eyes, "that perhaps the Almighty might be willing to help His supposedly favorite creation with a rather pressing problem. Apparently, I was mistaken."
Lightning flashed again, closer this time, briefly illuminating both figures:
Superman, the pinnacle of mortals in his iconic suit; and Samael, seemingly human yet most definitely not.
"Whatever your problem is," Superman said, "destroying God's Palace isn't the solution."
"And what would you know about solutions to my particular problem, Kryptonian?" Samael asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous tone.
"Have you ever been trapped in a body too fragile to contain your true nature? Have you ever felt yourself burning away your vessel with every use of your power?
Have you ever begged the being who made you this way for help, only to be met with silence?" Samael questioned, knowing that Manny must have already told them about his vessel's weakness,
something that probably all of Heaven and Earth knows soon enough with how many angels have seen his body soaking in the rivers of healing, and remaining unhealed.
Not that he cared, he was more than powerful enough to protect himself, and no one who understands his power is truly foolish enough to go after what is his, fearing his rage,
understanding their incapability to stand up to an archangel who abandons his humanity - having already seen his true form unleashed against Spectre.
The rain seemed to intensify around them, driven by winds that whipped at Superman's cape but left Samael strangely untouched, the water now sliding off him as if repelled by an invisible force.
Superman's expression remained resolute, but something in his eyes - a flicker of understanding, sympathy perhaps - betrayed that Samael's words had found their mark.
Remembering that the being before him, for all his power, was but a teenager in a difficult situation.
"There are always other ways," he insisted. "Ways that don't involve destruction."
"Are there?" Samael took a step forward, and despite himself, Superman tensed. "Please, enlighten me. I'm all ears."
And yet, Superman could only answer with silence.
"Thought so. I'll forgive your intrustion this time, since I acknowledge that you had no true ill intent in seeking me." That he himself found his actions perhaps a bit too hasty, aiding Superman's case was something he kept to himself.
He had after all no desire to start a Second Great War.
"But next time, try to make an appointment. I'd rather not make someone's day difficult, by having them mop Kryptonian blood from the pavement."
With these final words, Samael turned his back towards Superman and with a beat of wings disappeared, out of sight and hearing of the Kryptonians - Kara monitering from a distance, leaving them both soaking in the rain.
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(Author note: Hello everyone!
I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and this cleared up a bit the thing why Samael needs God to make his vessel, since archangels can't, they can't make a replica or the like, God's restrictions.
The Creation unraveling thing, I base it on the nature of primordial grace, what Samael as an archangel from Supernatural is made from, that same Grace of Chuck held Creation in balance, and logically the archangels would too since they are made from that same grace.
But, in Supernatural, it had Chuck, so even if the archangels died, Chuck would still hold everything together, here, there is no such thing,
and so, the moment Samael stepped into this Multiverse, the nature of his grace took effect, and well, he the function of balance fell on his grace.
So yeah, do tell please me how you found this extra bit of lore, as well how you found Manny and Constantine with the Bat family, plus the short encounter with Supes, and I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)