The golden light of Heaven's Fourth Paradise bathed the three figures sitting beneath the luminous tree.
Bruce sat between his parents, Thomas's arm around his shoulders, Martha's hand clasped tightly in his own.
For hours, they had talked, laughed, cried - bridging the decades time gap that had separated them.
Bruce had just finished telling them about Alfred's recent health scare - how the loyal butler had stubbornly refused medical attention until he'd nearly collapsed.
"Some things never change," Thomas said with a fond smile. "He was always too busy looking after you to worry about himself."
"He sounds exactly the same," Martha agreed, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I'm so glad he's been there for you all these years."
Bruce nodded, his throat tight with emotion. "He's been..." He paused, feeling a sudden shift within him - a gentle but unmistakable nudge from the celestial being sharing his body.
'I'm sorry, Bruce,' Samael's voice echoed in his mind. 'Our time is nearly up. Sunrise approaches in the mortal realm.'
Bruce's expression changed instantly, his features tightening with reluctance and sorrow. The hours had passed too quickly, like water through his fingers.
Martha, ever perceptive, noticed immediately. "Bruce? What's wrong?"
He opened his mouth to answer, but the words stuck in his throat.
How could he say goodbye again? How could he walk away from them a second time?
Thomas, studying his son's face, answered for him. "Your time is up, isn't it?" he asked quietly.
Bruce nodded, the simple gesture carrying the weight of worlds.
Martha's face crumpled, her composure finally breaking. She threw her arms around Bruce, burying her face against his chest. "It's not fair," she whispered, her voice breaking. "We've only just found you again."
Thomas joined the embrace, wrapping his strong arms around both his wife and son. "We understand," he said, though his voice betrayed his own reluctance. "You don't belong here. Not yet."
"I don't want to go," Bruce admitted, the words torn from somewhere deep inside him. For once, the man who had faced Gotham's worst nightmares without flinching allowed himself to be simply a son who missed his parents.
They held each other for what felt like both an eternity and a heartbeat. Finally, Martha pulled back, her face wet with tears but her expression composed once more.
"Will we-" she began, then had to stop and steady herself. "Will we see you again?"
Bruce looked helplessly at her, realizing he had no answer.
Could Samael bring him back? Would this miracle be repeated, or was this their one chance?
'May I?' Samael asked within their shared consciousness.
'Please,' Bruce replied, grateful for the intervention.
Bruce felt himself step back as Samael stepped forward.
"Mrs. Wayne," Samael said, his tone gentler than Bruce had ever heard it. "I wish I could give you certainty, but I cannot promise what may lie beyond my control."
Martha blinked, clearly still adjusting to the way her son's face and voice subtly changed when Samael spoke through him.
"As an archangel, I can normally traverse Heaven's realms freely," Samael continued. "But after today, Bruce will no longer be my vessel. My presence here now is by the silent permission of my Father."
"Your Father..." Thomas said slowly. "God Himself."
Samael nodded. "I am here seeking to better understand His intentions for me. This visit, fulfilling my promise to Bruce, was permitted."
"But depending on what happens next, what I discover... my relationship with my Father may change. For better or worse, I may find myself no longer welcome in Heaven."
Martha's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide. "You mean you could be..."
"Fallen? Cast out?" Samael's smile was sad. "It's happened before. Even to the brightest of angels. I may be the favorite now, but it never stopped Him from casting out the eldest."
Bruce, observing from within, felt the complex emotions swirling through Samael - bitterness, resignation, and something deeper: a longing for understanding that resonated with Bruce's own search for meaning.
"Even if things go well," Samael continued, "I cannot guarantee my Father would permit such a visit again. This may have been a special dispensation, a one-time grace."
He looked directly at Martha, his eyes - Bruce's eyes - holding hers with gentle firmness. "You may need to wait until Bruce completes his natural life - hopefully many decades from now - and finds his way here through faith - belief in God and righteous action."
Thomas tightened his arm around Martha's shoulders as she leaned into him, absorbing this difficult truth. Bruce could see the disappointment in their faces, but also acceptance.
"We understand," Thomas said finally. "And we're grateful for what you've given us today. Even if it's the only time... it's more than we ever thought possible."
Samael inclined his head. "I'll give you your final moments with your son."
Again the smooth transition, and Bruce was back in control, tears prickling behind his eyes. "Mom... Dad..."
Martha cupped his face in her hands. "My beautiful boy. Remember what we said - we are so proud of you. Of the man you've become, of the good you do."
"Even when it's hard," Thomas added. "Especially then."
"I'll remember," Bruce promised. "Everything you've told me, everything we've shared. I'll carry it with me."
"And we'll be watching," Martha said fiercely. "Whenever we can. Know that we're here, loving you, cheering for you."
"Tell Alfred we miss him," Thomas said. "And thank him, from both of us, for being the father you needed when we couldn't be there."
Bruce nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
"It's time," Samael's voice whispered within him.
Bruce embraced his parents one final time, trying to memorize everything - his mother's perfume, his father's steady heartbeat, the feeling of being their son - simply Bruce - again, rather than the Batman.
"I love you," he said, the words simple but carrying the weight of decades of grief.
"We love you too," they answered in unison. "Always."
Samael gently took control again. Bruce felt his body rise, his parents' hands slipping from his grasp.
The last thing he saw as Samael turned away was their faces - sad but at peace, watching him go with love rather than the terror of that long-ago alley.
Samael walked away from Paradise, each step carrying them farther from the reunion that had healed wounds Bruce had carried for most of his life.
As they reached Heaven's borders, magnificent wings unfurled from Bruce's back - not physically, but on a plane beyond mortal sight.
With a powerful beat of those six wings, they soared upward, leaving Heaven behind.
Bruce, still conscious within his own body, could feel Samael's emotions - gratitude for the vessel that allowed him such freedom of movement, satisfaction at fulfilling his promise, and beneath it all, a strange melancholy that seemed to echo Bruce's own sense of loss.
They flew through realms beyond normal understanding - places where light had texture and sound had color.
Bruce's mind struggled to process what his eyes were seeing, but Samael's grace protected him from being overwhelmed.
Finally, they emerged into a vast emptiness between worlds. Samael hovered in this non-space, this gap between universes, his wings beating steadily to maintain position.
"Now," Samael spoke aloud, though there was no air to carry the sound, "we find Gabriel."
Bruce felt power building within his borrowed body - instinctively knowing it was far more than Samael had used before. It was like housing a nuclear reactor, the energy barely contained by his flesh.
'Will this harm you?' Samael asked internally, surprising Bruce with his consideration.
'I can handle it,' Bruce replied, though he could already feel the strain.
Samael nodded, then raised Bruce's arms. When he spoke again, it was not in any human language.
The sounds that emerged were foundationed upon both music and mathematics, geometry and poetry - the language of Creation itself.
"Skies of all worlds," Samael called in High Enochian - a form of Enochian only known and spoken by archangels, the ancestor of the more known Enochian - his true voice resonating through the cosmos.
"Earths of all realms. Seas of all existence. I seek the fallen hornblower, he who shaped your paths. Reveal to me where Gabriel dwells."
The response came not as words but as sensations - a rush of wind, the pressure of depths, the solidity of stone. Bruce felt his mind stretching to comprehend the communication.
The Skies spoke first, their voice like thunder rolling across multiple dimensions at once:
"WE ARE THE VAULTS OF HEAVEN, CRADLING STARS AND SCRIPTURE. YOU ASK US TO BETRAY ONE WHO BREATHED THE THREADS OF CAUSALITY INTO OUR WINDS? NAY. NOT EVEN THE LIGHTBRINGER'S CRY SHALL SCATTER OUR LOYALTY."
Bruce felt Samael's frustration spike, the emotion sharp and hot.
"I do not seek him to harm him." Samael argued, his voice taking on an edge, though trying to calm himself. He wasn't used to being denied so openly.
"I seek counsel, understanding."
"WORDS," the Skies dismissed. "PRETTY WORDS FROM THE NEW-MADE LIGHT. GABRIEL IS UNDER OUR PROTECTION. SEEK ELSEWHERE, YOUNG DEMIURGE."
Samael turned his attention downward. "Earths of all creation, you who bear life and death, will you answer where the skies refuse?"
The response rumbled up from infinite worlds, a groaning, patient voice like continental plates shifting:
"WE HOLD ALL GRAVES. WE CRADLE ALL LIFE. WE REMEMBER EVERY WAR. WE ENDURE... AND WE FEAR WHAT MAY COME, SHOULD WE DEFY THE SKIES."
Bruce could feel Samael's anger building, a dangerous heat that made his borrowed body tremble. The archangel was - again - not accustomed to being denied.
"SEAS," Samael called, his patience visibly thinning. "PRIMORDIAL WATERS, FIRST OF ALL CREATION, WILL YOU SHOW ME THE WAY?"
The Seas answered in flowing, musical tones that somehow conveyed both beauty and sorrow:
"O LIGHT OF MORNING, WE HEAR THEE - YOUR VOICE STIRS WHIRLPOOLS IN OUR DEEPS. BUT TO RIPPLE AGAINST THE SKY'S WILL? THAT IS A FLOOD WE DARE NOT CAUSE... NOT YET."
Samael's frustration exploded outward, his grace flaring so brightly that Bruce felt momentary pain despite their connection.
"I AM THE LIGHTBRINGER," Samael thundered. "I COULD SEARCH ALL CREATION MYSELF, SCOURING EVERY CORNER UNTIL I FIND HIM. I ASK ONLY TO SPARE NEEDLESS EFFORT AND PAIN."
The Skies roiled with storm clouds across a million dimensions. "THEN DO SO, ARCHANGEL. PROVE YOUR MIGHT. BUT KNOW THAT SUCH AN ACT WOULD MARK YOU AS NO DIFFERENT FROM THE TYRANTS WHO CAME BEFORE."
Bruce felt Samael's internal conflict - the desire to assert his power warring with something else... a reluctance to cause harm.
'Could you actually do that?' Bruce asked internally. 'Search everywhere at once?'
'Yes,' Samael admitted. 'But it would strain your vessel beyond what I promised. There would be... damage. Permanent, though not life-threatening.'
Bruce considered this. The gift of seeing his parents, of hearing their forgiveness and love directly, was worth more than any physical cost.
'Do it,' Bruce decided.
'I can withstand it. It's a small price for what you've given me.' Bruce thought to himself, to didn't say this mentally to Sam.
Samael hesitated, hearing the unspoken gratitude in Bruce's thoughts. Out of respect, he didn't acknowledge it directly.
Before Samael could act on Bruce's permission, a new voice entered the cosmic conversation - or rather, billions of voices speaking in perfect harmony, like a chorus of bells ringing across the universe:
"Peace, skies. Be still, seas. Rest, earths. We will answer the Lightbringer's call."
"THE STARS DARE DEFY US?" the Skies thundered, outrage crackling through their voice.
"Not defiance, but truth," the Stars replied, their light pulsing with each word. "Samael walks a path set before him. If the Creator wished them separate, would He not have prevented this journey from its beginning?"
The Skies rumbled with discontent, but the Stars continued, their collective voice growing stronger:
"BENEATH THE MOON OF EARTH-PRIME, BESIDE THE ATLANTIC SEA, WITHIN THE CITY OF PORTLAND, THE FALLEN HORNBLOWER DWELLS. SEEK HIM THERE, MORNING-BORN."
The Skies' fury manifested as lightning across countless worlds. "TRAITORS! YOU BETRAY ONE OF YOUR MAKERS FOR THIS NEWCOMER?"
"We betray nothing," the Stars answered calmly. "The Lightbringer would find him eventually. We merely spare needless suffering."
Gradually, the Skies' anger subsided to a low rumble. The Seas settled, and the Earths grew still once more.
Samael lowered Bruce's arms, the tension in his borrowed body easing. "Thank you, Stars of Creation. Your assistance will not be forgotten."
"You need not thank us, Morning-born,"came the gentle reply. "Your song stirred us from silence. Your birth was the rekindling of a lullaby we thought long extinguished."
Bruce felt a shift in Samael's emotions - surprise, then confusion.
"What do you mean?" Samael asked, his voice softer now.
"You may not know it," the Stars continued, "But part of you became part of us the moment you came into being. Your light joined with the original Lightbringer's as foundation of our existence, preserving us, caring for us, loving us as a father loves his children."
Bruce felt Samael's shock ripple through their shared consciousness.
"Your soul and grace have been acting as a father to us," the stars explained, "even as Lucifer's song has grown distant, silent since his fall."
"Your birth - the moment we began to hear once more the song of light - was the most beautiful moment we have experienced since the great war."
As one, across infinite universes, the Stars pulsed with light. "All stars in all creation thank you for being born within this world, Samael Luthor."
Bruce felt something extraordinary happen - Samael, the archangel who had destroyed the Palace of God in a fit of rage, was speechless.
More than that, Bruce felt wetness on his cheeks as tears filled his eyes.
Samael reached up in surprise, touching the moisture with Bruce's fingertips. The emotion flowing through him was overwhelming - a love so vast and unexpected that it had pierced even his normal defenses.
"I... thank you," Samael finally managed, his voice uncharacteristically humble. He quickly wiped away the tears, composing himself. "I will not forget this."
With a powerful beat of his six wings, Samael broke the connection with the cosmic entities and soared toward the location the Stars had revealed.
As they flew through the barriers between universes, Bruce felt Samael's emotions gradually stabilize - the shock and wonder giving way to focus once more towards his goal.
------------------------
The rain was relentless.
A man pulled his tattered coat tighter around his shoulders, a futile gesture against the deluge that had soaked him to the bone hours ago.
His beard, once neatly trimmed in Heaven, now hung wild and matted against his chest, collecting droplets that ran down to join the puddles at his feet.
Nineteen years as a mortal. Nineteen years of hunger, cold, and the grinding indignity of human frailty.
He'd experienced it all - illness, addiction, the casual cruelty of those who saw only a homeless man, never who he was before.
Tonight, though, was different. He could feel it in his bones - those fragile human bones that ached with every change in weather.
The Skies above Portland roiled with unnatural fury, lightning splitting them open like wounds.
The Atlantic thrashed against the harbor walls with force.
Even the Earth beneath his feet felt heavier, as if burdened by unseen weight.
"What has you so angry tonight?" He muttered, addressing the elements directly as he trudged along the waterfront.
Few mortals would understand that the weather wasn't only atmospheric conditions but the also emotional state of conscious cosmic entities. "What's disturbed your usual balance?"
A particularly vicious gust of wind nearly knocked him off his feet, sending him staggering toward the shelter of a bridge overpass.
The Skies were definitely upset about something. Or someone.
He huddled against a concrete pillar, sliding down to sit on the damp ground.
His human body protested - joints stiff, muscles sore, the persistent cough that had troubled him for months threatening to erupt again.
How the mighty had fallen, indeed.
"The Skies are angry tonight," he mumbled to himself, pulling his threadbare coat tighter. "The Seas too. Even the Earth feels heavier."
He closed his eyes, reaching out with what little remained of his once-vast perception. Though fallen, though diminished, he was still who he was.
Some connections could never be fully severed.
What he sensed made his eyes snap open. Something was coming. Someone.
Power. Ancient and terrible power. But not the power he'd expected.
Not Constantine, come to mock him again. Not Heaven's agents, come to judge him further. Not Hell's emissaries, come to tempt him in his weakness.
This was something else. Something new, yet familiar. Like hearing an old song played on a new instrument.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the churning harbor waters. Thunder followed immediately, the sound so close it vibrated through his mortal frame. The rain intensified, becoming a solid wall of water.
Then, suddenly, it stopped - at least directly above him. The downpour continued all around, but he found himself unexpectedly dry. A shadow fell across him.
He looked up slowly, already knowing what he would see, yet unprepared for the reality of it.
A man stood before him, impeccably dressed in a black suit and long coat, an umbrella held in one hand.
Handsome features, raven hair, and blue eyes.
Yet he knew it. This was no man.
Not at all.
"Hello, Gabriel." Samael greeted, as lightning flashed above, and his eyes shifted from human blue to burning hellfire red in that very instant.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
Sorry, I was gone a while, been busy with life and exams and all that.
But I'm back. I hope you all are excited towards Samael and his 3rd eldest brother meeting.
Well, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)