The silence following Samael's question stretched uncomfortably across the dining room.
Bruce maintained his composure, his face revealing nothing of what he was thinking.
Alfred stood rigidly by the doorway, his normally impassive butler's demeanor betrayed by the slight tension in his shoulders.
Behind Samael, Cassandra remained vigilant, her dark eyes constantly assessing every movement in the room, particularly those of Constantine and Manny toward her charge - the man she loved - Samael.
"I understand this is a significant request," Samael continued, his voice smooth as silk. "Perhaps you need a clearer picture of what I'm offering in return."
He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
The dining room dissolved around them. One moment they were seated at Bruce's mahogany table; the next, they were suspended in the vast emptiness of space.
Stars glittered around them like diamonds scattered across black velvet. Constantine cursed loudly, his cigarette floating away from his suddenly slack fingers.
Alfred, ever composed, merely raised an eyebrow, though his knuckles whitened as he gripped the back of a chair that was no longer there.
"Good heavens," Alfred murmured, his British reserve cracking slightly as he gazed at the cosmic panorama surrounding them.
Cassandra's eyes widened, her usual stoic expression giving way to genuine wonder as she reached out tentatively, her fingers passing through a nearby nebula that scattered like luminous mist at her touch.
"What the bloody hell-" Constantine began.
"Relax," Samael said, his voice somehow carrying perfectly through the vacuum of space. "We haven't actually left the manor. This is merely a demonstration."
He gestured, and they were suddenly hurtling through the cosmos at impossible speed.
Galaxies spiraled past them, nebulae bloomed like celestial flowers, stars exploded in silent supernovae of breathtaking beauty.
"Creation," Samael said simply. "The universe in all its glory. I helped shape this, you know. Or rather, the power within me did. The Lightbringer's grace ignited the first stars, bringing light to darkness."
The scene shifted again. Now they watched as a single soul - a glowing sphere of pure energy - rose from a planet below them, ascending toward a brilliant golden light above.
"Life. Death. Rebirth. The cycle continues eternally," Samael explained. "As the Demiurge, I understand these patterns intimately. I can see the connections that bind all things."
He turned to Bruce, his eyes reflecting the starlight around them. "And I can share this knowledge with you.
Imagine what Batman could accomplish with the wisdom of creation at his disposal. The patterns of criminal behavior would be transparent to you. The flow of cause and effect would be yours to navigate."
Bruce remained silent, his expression unreadable.
Alfred cleared his throat. "Master Bruce has always managed quite admirably with his own intellect, sir," he said to Samael, his tone polite but firm.
"I daresay cosmic insight might be rather... excessive for catching common criminals."
"Perhaps something more concrete, then," Samael replied with a slight smile, acknowledging Alfred's words.
Another gesture, and the universe around them shifted once more. Now they stood in the sky above Gotham City - but not the Gotham they knew.
This city gleamed in the sunlight, its streets clean, its buildings full of glory. No crime, no corruption, no fear.
Below them, they could see familiar faces:
Joker, working as an entertainer at a children's hospital, his laughter genuine and healing.
Poison Ivy tending to public gardens that flourished with vibrant life.
Edward Nygma leading a think tank devoted to solving the world's greatest problems.
"This could be reality," Samael said softly. "As the Demiurge, I can reshape what is broken. I can heal what has been wounded. Your rogues gallery - rehabilitated. Your city - restored. Your parents-"
He paused, watching Bruce carefully.
"Your parents waiting to embrace you whenever you wish to visit them in Heaven."
Bruce's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"All you need to do," Samael continued, "is say 'yes.' One word, and this becomes your reality."
"Don't be stupid, Bats," Constantine interjected, breaking the spell of the moment.
"Nothing this good comes without a price. I've seen demon possessions - eyes bleeding, flesh rotting. And that's just demons.
This is an archangel we're talking about - a celestial nuke. Your body, your mind... they'll be shattered.
You'll be left as nothing but a husk, fixed on a single thought: light.
A bloody vegetable is what you'll be."
Alfred stepped closer to Bruce, his protective instincts overriding protocol. "I must concur with Mr. Constantine's assessment, sir, crude though it may be. The risk appears unconscionable."
Samael turned to Constantine, his expression one of mock hurt. "How barbaric do you think I am? I assure you, I'll be gentle."
He looked back at Bruce. "Besides, you're powerful enough to hold me without such consequences.
Your bloodline is remarkably pure - both Cain and Abel's lineages flowing through your veins. It's quite rare."
Bruce turned to Manny, his eyes sharp. "Which one is telling the truth?"
The angel hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. "The situation is... unprecedented. Samael is the only archangel to possess a human vessel. All others received their bodies directly from God, perfectly suited to their essence."
Manny glanced at Constantine. "What John describes is the typical outcome when a being of such power inhabits a mortal form. However..."
He looked at Samael, his expression troubled. "As the Demiurge, Samael's capabilities are vast. If he claims he can preserve your wellbeing, then theoretically, he could."
Bruce considered this, his tactical mind weighing every angle. "And if I refuse?" he asked, turning back to Samael.
The archangel's expression hardened. He clapped his hands once, and the illusions vanished. They were back in the dining room of Wayne Manor, as if they had never left.
"You are the most suitable vessel available," Samael said, his voice cooler now. "But there are others.
Rare individuals, numbering perhaps in the dozens globally, who collectively could serve my purpose.
I would burn through them like candle wax, of course - each lasting perhaps a day or two before their bodies failed."
He shrugged casually. "But I would send their souls directly to Heaven. Paradise guaranteed. I'm certain many would consider it a fair exchange."
Bruce's expression darkened. He stepped forward. "You-"
Manny's hand shot out, blocking Bruce's advance with great strength.
Bruce forced himself to calm down, years of discipline asserting control over his anger. "This is no longer a request for help," he said evenly. "It's blackmail. You know I won't allow others to die because of my decisions."
Samael's face showed genuine annoyance. "What exactly is your problem? I didn't wish to resort to this approach, but do you understand this way - this being just... You, literally makes existence actually worse?"
The room around them shifted again, but this time, only Bruce and Samael disappeared from the others' perception. They remained physically present, but their minds were elsewhere.
"Let me show you something," Samael said, his voice softer now. "The truth about Gotham."
They were suddenly floating high above the city. Below them, Gotham sprawled like an open wound, its buildings jagged teeth against the night sky.
But now Bruce could see something else - a darkness flowing through the streets, pulsing like black blood through the city's veins.
"Do you see it?" Samael asked. "The curse that feeds on your city. Centuries of occult rituals, demonic summonings, mass sacrifices - all leaving their mark."
They descended, passing through layers of reality. Buildings became transparent, streets peeled away like layers of an onion, revealing deeper and darker secrets beneath.
"But the true horror lies deeper still," Samael continued.
They plunged downward, through bedrock and ancient foundations, until they reached something that made Bruce's mind recoil in instinctive horror.
A colossal form lay beneath the city - a titan of nightmare proportions. Its body was bat-like yet horribly wrong, twisted into something that defied natural law.
Its wings, folded now in slumber, could span continents. Its face bore a grotesque resemblance to the symbol Bruce had chosen as his own.
"Barbatos," Samael named it. "The Bat God. Slumbering beneath your city, feeding on its fear. And on you, Bruce Wayne."
Bruce watched in horror as a glowing chain became visible, connecting his chest to the sleeping entity below.
"Your connection runs deep," Samael explained. "Barbatos feeds on the symbol of the Bat - your symbol. He feeds on your fears, your exploits, and the fear you inspire as Batman."
The truth unfolded before Bruce like a terrible map. "A negative feedback loop," Samael continued. "Barbatos curses the city, drawing evil to Gotham. Crime flourishes. You become Batman in response.
Batman strikes fear into criminals, spreading the symbol of the Bat. Through that fear, through those stories, Barbatos grows stronger.
Gotham becomes worse. Batman strikes more fear. Barbatos grows stronger still. On and on, without end."
Bruce - instinctively feeling the truth in these words, as if somewhere in the back of his mind he always suspected something like this - felt his knees weaken as the revelation crashed over him. "I've been... making it worse?"
"You can never fix Gotham," Samael said gently. "Not as Batman. Not as Bruce Wayne. Every night you spend fighting crime actually strengthens the curse. And you can never stop, can you? Because you are Batman. Bruce Wayne is the mask."
Bruce fell to his knees, suspended in the sky above his city, the weight of this truth nearly crushing him.
Samael slowly approached him and stood in front of him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It doesn't have to be this way," he said softly.
"This need not be your legacy. You don't have to be the unwilling cause of suffering. You can break this cycle."
Around them, a new vision formed - Bruce watched as the chain connecting him to Barbatos shattered.
The Bat God writhed in agony, then began to disintegrate. Gotham transformed before his eyes, darkness receding, light returning to streets that had known only shadow for generations.
"All you need to do is say yes," Samael whispered. "And I can give you anything. Everything." he stated as he took his hand back and extended it to Bruce, open, inviting.
The vision expanded to show Bruce standing before his parents - Thomas and Martha Wayne, smiling, arms outstretched to embrace their son.
No longer memories or ghosts, but real. Waiting for him.
Bruce reached out, his hand moving toward Samael's extended palm. Then he hesitated.
"I... I have a condition," he said, his voice steady despite the amount of emotions he's feeling.
"Name it."
"You can't kill using my body," Bruce stated firmly. "That's my one non-negotiable term."
Samael's expression tightened with displeasure. "I can agree not to kill humans," he countered. "But against demons and hostile angels, I cannot hold back. The stakes are too high."
With another gesture, they returned to the dining room. For the others - Cassandra, Alfred, Manny, and Constantine - only a second had passed, though for Bruce and Samael, it had been much longer.
"There's something else you should understand," Samael said, addressing everyone now.
"My existence sustains Creation itself. This reality - this entire multiverse - is contingent upon my grace. Should I be severely injured or killed, Creation itself would begin to unravel."
He turned back to Bruce. "This is not a threat or exaggeration. It is simply the nature of what I am as the Demiurge. My Father anchored this reality to my essence. If I fall, everything falls."
Bruce looked to Manny. "Is this possible?"
The angel nodded slowly. "It... aligns with what we know. Michael Demiurgos holds the Power of God, and if he were to die, that power would flood Creation, destroying everything. If Samael truly is the complete Demiurge..." He trailed off, the implications clear.
Bruce absorbed this final piece of information, calculating the stakes.
If Samael spoke the truth - and all evidence suggested he did - then the archangel's vulnerability was Creation's vulnerability.
Batman had sworn to protect the innocent; what greater responsibility could there be than preserving reality itself?
The decision crystallized in his mind with sudden clarity (though deep down he wondered whether it was an excuse for the part of him that is still Bruce to convince the Batman to give in.)
Alfred was the first to notice this, "Master Bruce-" He hastily began, his voice uncharacteristically full of worry, as he stepped forward.
"Yes," Bruce said simply - interrupting him, knowing that Alfred is the only one who could possibly stop him.
The word hung in the air for a moment - just a syllable, but carrying the weight of infinity.
Then light erupted from Samael, so brilliant that everyone in the room was forced to shield their eyes.
It poured into Bruce Wayne like a river finding its true course, filling him completely.
When the light faded, Bruce Wayne stood alone, Samael's body crumpled to the floor. Cassandra moved with inhuman speed, catching her charge's empty vessel before it could hit the ground.
She cradled it with surprising gentleness, her expression a complex mixture of concern and love.
But it wasn't Bruce anymore that stood, not entirely. He opened his eyes, and they burned with the cold hellfire of creation.
"Thank you for your hospitality," he said in a voice that was Bruce's, yet simply not... him.
"I'll return your friend in good condition."
Without another word, he and Cassandra vanished in a flutter of wings that no one saw but everyone heard - the sound of reality itself being folded aside like a curtain.
Constantine stared at the empty space where Bruce had been, then fumbled for a cigarette with shaking hands.
"Bloody hell," he muttered. "We're all screwed."
Alfred remained frozen, staring at the space where his surrogate son had stood moments before. His composure, maintained through decades of tragedy and crisis, finally cracked.
"Oh, Master Bruce," he whispered. "What have you done?"
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter and that it was believable.
I think if things went this way that Bruce would accept, do tell me what you think.
But, yeah, Samael now has Batman as his vessel - he isn't a perfect vessel, but think Bruce to be just a better Nick, but not equal to the Crowley upgrade.
Also, this probably won't be for too long, since well, Samael is a guy that loves pleasure but in Bruce's body he of course won't touch Cassandra -
Cassandra herself also not wanting to since she only wants Samael's original look and him to be alone in his body and all that.
Well, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)