The rain formed a perfect circle around them, as if repelled by an invisible force.
Samael stood before the fallen archangel, his hellfire eyes slowly fading back to human blue as he studied the disheveled figure huddled against the bridge pillar.
Gabriel looked up at him, his weathered face a map of human suffering.
Nineteen years of mortality had etched deep lines around his eyes, hollowed his cheeks, and bent his once-proud shoulders.
His clothes - a tattered coat, stained jeans, and worn boots - hung from his frame like flags of surrender.
"May I join you?" Samael asked, his voice casual, as if they were strangers meeting at a café rather than celestials beneath a bridge.
Gabriel didn't respond, his eyes never leaving Samael's face. The wariness in his gaze was palpable - the instinctive caution of a wounded animal confronted by a predator.
Samael didn't wait for permission. He folded his tall frame, settling beside Gabriel against the concrete pillar.
The expensive fabric of his suit touched the filthy ground without hesitation, as if the laws of dirt and stain existed in some other reality that couldn't quite reach him.
The umbrella remained in his hand, though it now seemed purely decorative - a prop in a play rather than a practical object- for there almost appeared to be an infinity between Samael and the world, only touched by what he allowed the grace to connect with his being.
The dirt not staining his clothes, the rain not drenching him.
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of rain hammering the world around their dry sanctuary.
'He's terrified,' Bruce observed within Samael's mind. 'Though he's trying not to show it.'
'Of course he is,' Samael replied internally. 'He's a fallen archangel facing one at full power. He remembers what that difference means.'
Gabriel finally broke the silence, his voice rough from disuse. "Have you come to mock me? To witness how far the mighty have fallen?" A bitter laugh escaped him. "Constantine already handles that role quite efficiently."
"I'm not here to mock you," Samael replied, his tone measured. "I'm here because I need to understand."
"Understand what?" Gabriel's eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"Everything." Samael turned to face him directly. "Who I am. What I am. Why I was created."
Gabriel's laugh was harsh, devoid of humor. "And you think I would know? I, who have been cast out, stripped of my grace, abandoned to this mortal coil?"
"You're the Messenger," Samael said simply. "Before your fall, you were the Voice of Heaven, the bearer of divine will. If anyone might have insight into the Presence's intentions, it would be you."
Gabriel studied him for a long moment, his gaze traveling over Samael's features as if searching for something. "You're not what I expected," he finally said.
"And what did you expect?"
"Something... colder. More distant." Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "The power you radiate - it's familiar, yet different. Like hearing Lucifer's song played in a new key." He paused. "Who are you, really?"
Samael considered his answer carefully. "I am Samael Luthor. Born human nineteen years ago, my soul locked into an unfeeling darkness- transformed by divine will into something... more. Only the song of grace kept me sane..."
"A human soul made archangel?" Gabriel's expression shifted to disbelief. "Impossible. Angels are not made, they are spoken into being by the Word itself."
"And yet, here I am." Samael spread his hands slightly. "A human soul, reforged into the Lightbringer."
Gabriel's eyes widened slightly. "The Lightbringer? You claim Lucifer's title?"
"I don't claim it. I am it." Samael's voice was matter-of-fact. "But more than that, I am the Demiurge. One who's own might burns him without pause."
The words hung in the air between them. Gabriel stared at Samael, shock giving way to dawning comprehension, then to something darker - a bitter understanding that twisted his features.
After a long silence he spoke, "The Demiurge," he repeated, the words like ashes in his mouth. "Not half, like Michael and Lucifer. The complete divine power of creation."
Samael slowly nodded once.
Gabriel's laughter began as a chuckle, then built into something wild and unhinged that echoed beneath the bridge.
It was the laughter of someone who finally understands the cosmic joke played at their expense.
"Of course," he wheezed when he could speak again. "Of course! It all makes sense now. Everything - everything - was just preparation for you."
He gestured expansively, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. "Michael, Lucifer, myself, all the Host, humanity, the entirety of Creation - we were just prototypes. Necessary steps in a story. Foundation stones for the main character to be born."
'He's losing it,' Bruce commented within Samael's mind. 'Be careful.'
'I see that,' Samael replied, watching Gabriel's breakdown with detached interest.
"You- You needed to be human, He's always loved humans and said they had the greatest potential- this was what he meant!" Gabriel continued, his voice rising.
"You also needed to be the Demiurge- and only one who was also human could balance the Freedom of Will and Power! Your human father needed to exist, as did your mother, as did their ancestors...
Lucifer needed to fall. Everything - every single event in Creation - was just preludes... foundations for the true beauty to be born..."
He turned to Samael, his eyes wild. "Do you understand what this means? We were never the point. We were just... scaffolding. Temporary structures to support the true masterpiece."
As Gabriel spoke, Samael felt something shift in the fallen archangel. The remnants of his grace, buried beneath layers of mortality and bitterness, were stirring - sensing, measuring, recognizing.
"He- He loves you," Gabriel whispered, his voice breaking. "More than He's loved anything. I can feel it - even fallen, even diminished, I can sense it. Father loves you more than He ever loved any of us."
The accusation hung in the air between them, raw and painful.
"And you dare to complain?" Gabriel suddenly snarled, his mood shifting from broken awe to fury in an instant. "You dare to come here, to me, seeking what? Sympathy? Understanding? When you have everything?"
He struggled to his feet, swaying slightly. "Nineteen years in darkness- of so called 'burning'? What of my nineteen years in this mortal shell? Disease, hunger and age breaking it apart piece by piece?"
"What of Lucifer's millennia in Hell? What of our siblings who were abandoned? Of Michael who no one knows where he's disappeared to?!"
'Don't respond in kind,' Bruce cautioned within Samael's mind, sensing his archangel friend's growing annoyance. 'He's lashing out from pain, not malice.'
Samael remained seated, his expression calm despite Gabriel's outburst- internally calming himself as well. "You're getting emotional- projecting. I haven't complained even once to you. Simply explained what is at hand."
"I'm not here for sympathy," he said evenly. "And I'm not angry at our Father for those nineteen years of isolation."
He rose smoothly to his feet, standing eye-to-eye with Gabriel. "They were... unpleasant, certainly. But if that was the price for what I am now, I would pay it a thousand times over."
"Of course you would," Gabriel spat. "Power is all that matters to you, isn't it? Just like Lucifer. Just like Mother. Just like-"
"Power means security," Samael interrupted, his voice hardening slightly. "It means the ability to protect what's mine. To create what I desire. To shape a world where those I care for can thrive."
He stepped closer to Gabriel, his presence suddenly more imposing. "I didn't come here for pity. I came for advice. For insight from- from one of my eldest brothers. One who's wisdom I've decided to trust."
"I..." He began almost hesitant, not truly wanting to open up, but understanding he needs to, to get through to Gabriel's projections.
"I need to understand - am I merely a tool? Does our Father love me truly? Is this all an elaborate plan to break me? To take everything from me later and keep me only as an instrument of creation and destruction?"
Samael turned silent for a long moment as he put his hands in his pocket- almost like he wanted to hide from his own words as he looked up into the grey raining skies.
His voice dropped lower, a hint of vulnerability showing through his normally controlled look. "Will I be locked away like a treasure in a jewel box, unable to interact with the rest of Creation, simply because I am, as Mother says, 'the most beautiful and perfect creation of God'? His most desired tool since the beginning of all?"
Something in Samael's tone - the genuine uncertainty, the fear beneath the power - seemed to reach Gabriel.
The fury slowly drained from his face, replaced by a weariness that seemed to age him beyond his already weathered appearance.
He sighed deeply, sinking back down to sit on the ground, his face buried in his hands. For several long moments, he remained silent, shoulders slumped in defeat.
When Gabriel finally looked up, his expression had transformed.
The bitterness was still there, but it was tempered now by something else - a flicker of his former self- the one from even before the Great War, the Gabriel who had once been beloved among the Host for his warmth and compassion.
"I've become everything I once despised," he said quietly. "Standing here, accusing a fledgling of sins he hasn't committed, simply out of envy." He shook his head. "How far I've fallen."
Samael's eyebrow rose slightly at being called a "fledgling," but he remained silent, allowing Gabriel to continue.
"Perhaps that's why I fell," Gabriel mused, his gaze distant. "Not only for the sin they accused me of, but for what I had become - proud, arrogant, cold-hearted- sourcing my sin, believing myself pure above all."
"After Lucifer fell and Michael disappeared... after all the Host's responsibilities fell on my shoulders... after Father closed the Palace and went silent, and Mother was banished to Hell..."
He looked up at Samael, genuine regret in his eyes. "I apologize. My anger is not truly directed at you."
"But is directed at our Father?" Samael prompted. "What insights can you offer about His intentions? Who is He truly? What does He intend for me? Do you have any idea?"
Gabriel's expression softened. "He... He loves you, Samael. More than He's loved anything else - I wasn't exaggerating about that. But I don't believe He intends to use you merely as a tool."
He gestured at Samael's human form. "If our Mighty Creator truly wanted you as nothing but an instrument, He - the Omnipotent - would have already chained you to such a purpose. He wouldn't have given you so much freedom, so much autonomy."
"Our Mother claims otherwise," Samael said, watching Gabriel's reaction carefully.
"Our Mother? Asherah?" Gabriel's eyes widened. "She's free? And speaking to you?"
As he said this he remembered Samael's words earlier on how their Mother described him- realising that in his ire those words didn't sink in till now.
When Samael nodded, Gabriel shook his head vigorously. "She's delusional, brother. Consumed by her own bitterness and thwarted ambitions."
"The Demiurge, though more powerful than anything in Creation, is not omnipotent. You cannot see all ends, all possibilities, as Father can."
He reached out, hesitating before letting his hand fall back to his side. "No one knows Father's plan - not truly. Not even I, when I was the Messenger. All I can say is that you should live your life as it comes. Trust in His plan."
Samael was not pleased.
"No." He did not come for words told to humans daily about God- especially not from the Messenger who was closest to Him since the Fall.
The single word hung between them, simple yet unyielding- a silence stretching between them for a long moment.
"I cannot - will not - simply sit and wait," Samael continued, his voice becoming more intense.
"My vessel burns with each use of my power. My connection to the physical world grows more tenuous daily. I will not passively accept this limitation when I know there is a solution- that God can help me."
"What do you intend to do?" Gabriel asked, his tone shifting subtly - gentler now, more indulgent, like an adult addressing a child's impossible dreams. "What could you possibly do that would force the Almighty's hand?"
Samael noticed the change immediately, his eyes narrowing as he sensed Gabriel's perception of him - not as an equal, but as a tantrum-throwing infant angel.
Deciding he will not take this- that he will be taken seriously - In one fluid motion, Samael reached down and grasped Gabriel's arm, hauling the fallen archangel to his feet with effortless strength.
Gabriel gasped, startled by the sudden movement and the power behind it.
"I have a plan," Samael said, his voice low and intense. "One that will make it so our Father can no longer ignore us."
Gabriel's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about? Are you okay, Little Maker?"
The nickname slipped out naturally, the term Gabriel had long ago decided to use when the Demiurge was to be made- before the Fall, when Creation was still young and angels were still being made.
Having begun to sense how young Samael is- in Gabriel's eyes being a cute little baby.
(The plans he then had for raising his little brother like he did the rest- Michael and Lucifer not as enthusiastic when it came to connecting with the fledglings.)
"It's quite delusional to think you can make the Almighty do anything."
Samael's eye twitched at the patronizing nickname. Without warning, his right hand moved in a blur, drawing something from his sleeve - an archangel blade, its knife a glowing golden spiral of light.
Gabriel instinctively stepped back, ancient reflexes kicking in despite his mortal limitations. His eyes widened in shock as Samael raised the blade - not toward Gabriel, but to his own neck.
With a swift, precise movement, Samael made a small cut at the base of his throat. A substance like liquid light began to seep from the wound - not blood, but pure grace, the essence of his archangelic being.
'Samael, what are you doing?' Bruce's alarmed voice echoed in his mind.
'Solving two problems at once,' Samael replied calmly.
With ease - uncaring for the immense pain, protecting Bruce from the brunt of it- Samael gathered a portion of the flowing grace - perhaps a tenth of his total essence - into his palm.
The light pulsed with raw power, illuminating the underside of the bridge with pure white light- the most beautiful in Creation.
Before Gabriel could react, Samael lunged forward, pressing his palm against the fallen archangel's mouth, forcing the grace between his lips.
"I will grant you back what was lost," Samael declared, his voice resonating with power. "I will make you an archangel again, and you will help me - help me gain a Letter of Passage."
Gabriel's eyes widened in shock and terror as the grace flowed into him. For a moment, nothing happened - then his body began to change.
Light erupted from within him, pouring from his eyes, his mouth, every pore of his skin. His mortal frame shook violently, struggling to contain the sudden influx of archangelic power.
The tattered clothes he wore began to smolder, then ignite, burning away in the supernatural heat.
Gabriel began to cough as he then screamed - a sound of both agony and ecstasy- the sound rippled outward, shattering the concrete beneath their feet, cracking the bridge supports, sending shockwaves across the city of Portland.
The rain instantly vaporized around them, creating a perfect dome of steam that expanded outward.
Lightning forked across the sky in normally impossible patterns, striking the same points repeatedly as if trying to write something in the heavens.
Within Gabriel, nineteen years of mortality burned away in seconds.
His body straightened, the weathered lines of his face smoothing, his matted hair and beard becoming clean and lustrous.
His essence, long diminished, flared back to life like a star reigniting after eons of darkness.
Wings erupted from his back - not two, but six massive appendages of golden light that spread wide, each feather perfect and beautiful.
His eyes blazed with renewed power, ancient knowledge returning in a flood of divine awareness- sensing once more the infinity of the multiverse.
And across Creation - across all universes, all dimensions - every being with even a hint of supernatural sensitivity felt it.
The Messenger had returned.
In Heaven, angels paused in their duties, heads tilting as they felt the familiar presence they had thought lost forever.
In Hell, demons cowered as the light of Gabriel's restoration pierced even their darkened realm.
On Earth, mystics and sensitives looked up in wonder, feeling something altering the balance as it did to some eons ago, and to some only moments ago- the movement of time being different in their universes compared to the one Gabriel was in.
As the transformation completed, Gabriel stood before Samael, no longer a broken human but restored to his full archangelic glory- at half grace - the Demiurge creating a chain reaction, forming more from nothing.
His expression was one of wonder, disbelief, and growing comprehension of what Samael had done - and what it meant.
"What have you done?" he whispered, "Do you understand what you've done?"
Samael's smile was cold and satisfied, the wound at his neck already healed. "I've made my first move," he said simply.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I'm back! Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
Do tell me how you found Gabriel and Samael's conversation and the fact Samael made Gabriel an archangel again.
Also- don't worry, Samael as an archangel causes his grace to regenerate- he'll be at full power again soon enough.
Something he would actually be bummed about, since he already has more power than necessary and would actually want to put some aside to make his body last longer - but alas, it isn't that easy.
Well, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)