"So this is where you get coffee?" Superboy asked, his skepticism evident as he eyed the small café tucked between a bookstore and a vintage clothing shop. "It looks... normal."
"What were you expecting?" Samael replied with amusement, Cassandra holding the door open for them. "A secret underground laboratory with coffee-brewing supercomputers?"
Superboy shrugged, the gesture still slightly stiff as he adjusted to his newfound freedom. "I don't know. With you being a Luthor and all..."
"And all?" Samael prompted, eyebrow raised as they entered the café.
"You know," Superboy muttered, suddenly finding the menu board fascinating. "Rich. Powerful. Mysterious."
Cassandra, walking silently behind them, caught Samael's eye and signed discreetly: 'He's not wrong.'
The café was moderately busy for a weekday afternoon, filled with university students hunched over laptops and young professionals taking late lunch breaks.
A few heads turned as they entered – Samael had become something of a local celebrity since his arrival in Gotham – but most quickly returned to their own concerns.
"The mysterious part comes later," Samael said, guiding them to a corner table with good sightlines to all exits – a choice Cassandra approved of with a slight nod. "First, we need to introduce you to one of humanity's greatest inventions: the caramel macchiato."
As they settled at the table, Superboy's gaze darted around the café, taking in every detail with the heightened perception granted by his Kryptonian DNA. "There are seventeen different coffee varieties on the menu," he observed. "Is that normal?"
"Welcome to the modern world," Samael replied. "Where choice is abundant and decision paralysis is a daily occurrence."
A server approached their table, her smile brightening as she recognized Samael. "Mr. Luthor! Good to see you again. The usual?"
"Please, Diane. And whatever my companions would like."
Cassandra held up two fingers, pointing to Samael's order, indicating she wanted the same. Superboy, caught off guard by being asked for his preference, hesitated.
"He'll have a hot chocolate," Samael decided for him. "With extra whipped cream."
After Diane left, Superboy frowned. "I could have ordered for myself."
"Could you?" Samael challenged mildly. "Do you even know what hot chocolate is, beyond theoretical knowledge that those telepath creatures put into you?"
The clone's frown deepened. "I have comprehensive data on human nutrition and consumption patterns."
"Data isn't experience," Samael countered. "Trust me on this one. You'll like it."
Superboy fell silent, his expression a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.
Cassandra watched the exchange with interest, her keen eyes noting the subtle shifts in both their postures – Samael's casual confidence, Superboy's defensive tension gradually easing.
"So," Samael said, leaning back in his chair, "how are you finding the mansion? Settling in alright?"
"It's... big," Superboy replied after a moment. "Quiet. But... a good kind. Different from Cadmus."
"I should hope so," Samael murmured. "Though I imagine anything would be an improvement over a laboratory pod."
Their drinks arrived, momentarily pausing the conversation. Superboy stared at his hot chocolate, topped with a mountain of whipped cream and a dusting of cinnamon, as if it might contain hidden traps.
"It's not going to attack you," Samael said dryly. "Though it might assault your taste buds with pleasure."
Cautiously, Superboy took a sip. His eyes widened slightly, surprise evident in his expression.
"Good, right?" Samael prompted, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
"It's... acceptable," Superboy admitted, though his immediate second sip betrayed his true opinion.
Cassandra's lips twitched in what might have been amusement as she signed to Samael: 'He likes it.'
"Of course he does," Samael replied. "Everyone likes chocolate. It's practically encoded in human DNA."
"I'm only half human," Superboy pointed out.
"And yet," Samael gestured to the rapidly disappearing whipped cream, "here we are."
The clone had the grace to look slightly embarrassed as he set down his mug. "Is this what normal people do? Sit in cafés and drink flavored beverages?"
"Among other things," Samael confirmed. "It's called socializing. Interacting with the world instead of observing it from behind glass."
Superboy's expression darkened momentarily. "I didn't have a choice about the glass part."
Samael's tone softened slightly. "I know. But you do now. Which is why we're here – to show you Gotham. To let you experience what it means to be more than just a weapon or a backup plan."
"Is that what I am to you?" Superboy asked suddenly, his blue eyes intense. "An experience? A project?"
"You're family," Samael replied without hesitation. "Unconventional, unexpected, and admittedly complicated – but family nonetheless."
The simple declaration seemed to catch Superboy off guard. He looked down at his hot chocolate, apparently finding it easier to process than Samael's words.
Cassandra signed discretely: 'He's overwhelmed. Too much, too fast.'
Samael nodded slightly, understanding. "Finish your drink. Then we'll continue our tour of the city. No rush, no pressure. Just... living."
After they'd finished their beverages and stepped back onto Gotham's busy streets, Samael led them toward the city's historic district.
The architecture gradually shifted from modern steel and glass to older, more ornate structures with gargoyles perched on nearly every corner.
"What's with all the stone monsters?" Superboy asked, eyeing a particularly grotesque specimen leering down from a nearby building.
"Gotham's architectural signature," Samael explained. "Supposedly they ward off evil spirits. Though considering the city's crime statistics, I'd say they're not particularly effective."
"Do evil spirits actually exist?" Superboy asked, his tone skeptical.
Samael's smile held a hint of mystery. "More things in heaven and earth, Horatio..."
"Who's Horatio?" Superboy asked, confusion evident.
"It's from Shakespeare," Samael explained. "Hamlet. We'll add that to your cultural education list."
As they walked, Cassandra maintained a vigilant perimeter, her eyes constantly scanning for threats while remaining close enough to hear their conversation.
Despite her professional focus, Samael noticed her occasionally signing translations or explanations to Superboy when historical references or idioms confused him - it seems those telepathic creatures have also taught him sign language.
Useful.
They passed through a small park where children played on swings and slides, their laughter a stark contrast to Gotham's usual soundtrack of traffic and sirens. Superboy paused, watching the scene with undisguised fascination.
"I have genetic memory of childhood," he said quietly. "But I never experienced it."
"Another thing stolen from you," Samael observed, his voice neutral but his eyes flashing momentarily with something darker.
"Does it matter?" Superboy asked. "I was created for a purpose. Childhood would have been... inefficient."
"Purpose isn't everything," Samael replied. "Sometimes the journey matters more than the destination."
They continued walking, eventually reaching the harbor where the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the water.
Cargo ships and fishing vessels moved slowly through the bay, their horns occasionally sounding in the distance.
"Are you hungry?" Samael asked suddenly. "There's a seafood restaurant nearby that serves the best clam chowder in Gotham."
Superboy considered this. "I don't require sustenance for another four hours based on my caloric intake calculations."
Samael laughed, the sound genuine and warm. "That's not how normal people decide when to eat. We eat when we're hungry, or when something sounds good, or sometimes just because we're bored."
"That seems inefficient," Superboy observed.
"Gloriously so," Samael agreed. "That's part of being human – embracing seeming inefficiency in pursuit of pleasure."
They found a table at the waterfront restaurant, an upscale establishment with panoramic views of Gotham Bay. As they settled in, Samael produced a small book from his jacket pocket and placed it on the table.
"What's that?" Superboy asked.
"A book of names," Samael replied casually. "We can't keep calling you 'Superboy' forever. It lacks... dignity."
The clone frowned. "What's wrong with Superboy?"
"Besides the fact that it sounds like a breakfast cereal mascot?" Samael asked dryly. "It's a designation, not a name. It defines you by your connection to Superman, rather than as your own person."
Superboy's frown deepened. "I hadn't considered that."
"Hence the book," Samael said, sliding it across the table. "Browse through it while we wait for our food. See if anything resonates."
Cassandra signed: 'Have you considered asking his preference?'
"An excellent point," Samael acknowledged. "Do you have any particular name in mind already?"
Superboy shook his head. "Cadmus only referred to me as Project Kr or the Superboy. Names weren't... relevant."
"They are now," Samael said firmly. "Look through the book. Consider your options. This is your identity we're talking about – it should be your choice."
As Superboy began flipping through the name book, their server arrived to take their order. Samael ordered for all of them – clam chowder in sourdough bread bowls, a seafood platter to share, and sparkling water.
"Wouldn't wine be more appropriate with seafood?" Superboy asked after the server left, apparently recalling some fragment of programmed knowledge.
"Typically, yes," Samael agreed. "But you're technically what, sixteen weeks old? I think we'll hold off on the alcohol for now."
"My physical age is sixteen years," Superboy corrected.
"And your actual age is less than four months," Samael countered. "It's a gray area I'd rather not explore over lunch. I have no interest in a drunk teenager baby."
Cassandra signed subtly: 'He's embarrassed again.'
Samael caught the slight flush on Superboy's cheeks and smoothly changed the subject. "Any names catching your interest?"
Superboy shrugged, still paging through the book. "There are so many. How do people usually choose?"
"Various methods," Samael replied. "Family traditions, cultural significance, personal meaning, or sometimes just because they like how it sounds."
"What about your name?" Superboy asked. "Why Samael?"
"My father chose it. It means 'poison of God' or 'venom of God' in Hebrew. A rather dramatic choice for a newborn, but that's Lex Luthor for you – never one for subtlety."
"And you kept it? Even knowing what it means?"
"Names have power," Samael said thoughtfully. "Sometimes embracing a potentially negative label transforms it into something else entirely.
Besides," he added with a hint of a smile, "it's grown on me. I see the positive in it, rather than the negativity my father intended it to be."
'Not to mention it was already my name in my first life, so not much has changed, only the intent behind the naming.
In my last life it was intended as me being a person who can walk past any evil, and remain pure, while in this life it was meant to signify me as cursed.' Samael thought to himself.
Their food arrived, momentarily distracting Superboy from the name book. He stared at the bread bowl with obvious confusion.
"The bowl is edible," Samael explained before he could ask. "Sourdough bread hollowed out and filled with chowder. Try it – it's a uniquely satisfying experience."
Superboy followed Samael's example, tearing off a piece of the bread rim and dipping it into the creamy soup. His expression as he tasted it was one of surprised appreciation.
"Good, right?" Samael prompted.
"Yes," Superboy admitted, more forthcoming with his opinion than he had been about the hot chocolate. "The combination of textures is... interesting."
"The simple pleasures of existence," Samael said, raising his water glass in a mock toast. "Worth experiencing firsthand."
As they ate, Superboy continued to flip through the name book, occasionally pausing on certain pages before moving on. Samael and Cassandra exchanged occasional glances but allowed him to explore without pressure.
"What about Conner?" Samael suggested after a while, remembering Superboy's known timeline choice.. "It means 'lover of hounds' or 'wise' depending on which etymology you follow."
Superboy looked up from the book. "Conner," he repeated, testing the sound. "It's... not bad."
"We could make it Conner Luthor," Samael continued. "Acknowledge your connection to the family while giving you your own identity."
"Would your father approve?" Superboy asked, a hint of challenge in his voice.
Samael's smile turned sharp. "Probably not. Which is precisely why I suggested it."
Cassandra signed: 'He should choose his own name.'
"You're right, of course," Samael acknowledged. "Just offering suggestions. The choice is entirely yours," he added, addressing Superboy directly.
They finished their meal, Superboy occasionally returning to the name book between bites.
As they prepared to leave, Samael paid the bill with a casual wave of his credit card, leaving a tip that made their server's eyes widen.
"One more stop before we head home," Samael announced as they stepped back onto the street. "The Gotham Museum of Natural History has a special exhibition on ancient civilizations that I think you might find interesting."
The museum was a massive neoclassical building with imposing columns and broad stone steps leading to its entrance.
Inside, the exhibition on ancient civilizations occupied an entire wing, with artifacts from Egypt, Mesopotamia, Greece, and Rome displayed in carefully controlled environments.
As they moved through the exhibition, Samael provided additional context beyond the information cards, speaking of ancient cultures with the familiarity of someone who had studied them extensively.
"How do you know all this?" Superboy asked after a particularly detailed explanation of Sumerian creation myths.
"I read a lot," Samael replied simply. "When you spend nineteen years unable to move or speak, you develop quite an appreciation for knowledge."
Superboy looked momentarily uncomfortable, perhaps realizing he wasn't the only one who had experienced an unusual beginning to life. "I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. "About your coma."
"Don't be," Samael said with a dismissive wave. "We all have our crosses to bear. The question is what we do with the life we have now."
They continued through the exhibition, eventually reaching a display of ancient weapons. Superboy paused before a glass case containing a bronze sword, its surface green with age but its form still elegant and deadly.
"It's strange," he said quietly. "I was created to be a weapon. To replace or destroy Superman if necessary. But looking at these," he gestured to the display, "they seem so... primitive. Limited."
"All weapons have limitations," Samael observed. "Even you. Even Superman."
"What are my limitations?" Superboy asked, turning to face him directly.
Samael met his gaze steadily. "That's something you'll need to discover for yourself. But I suspect they have less to do with your physical capabilities and more with the mental programming Cadmus tried to instill."
Superboy's expression darkened. "The genomorphs. The telepathic education."
"Precisely," Samael nodded. "Knowledge without context. Power without wisdom. They gave you the tools but not the understanding of when or how to use them."
"And you'll teach me that understanding?" Superboy asked, skepticism evident, internally questioning how that would be different from what was already done to him.
"I'll help you find it for yourself," Samael corrected. "There's a difference."
As the museum was preparing to close, they made their way back to the waiting car.
The drive back to the Bristol district was mostly silent, each lost in their own thoughts as Gotham's skyline receded behind them.
Back at the mansion, as they entered the grand foyer, Samael turned to Superboy. "Did you enjoy your first proper day out in the world?"
The clone considered this, his expression thoughtful. "It was... nice."
"High praise indeed," Samael said with a slight smile. "Tomorrow we can continue your cultural education. Perhaps a movie or a sporting event."
Superboy nodded, then hesitated, his gaze dropping to the name book he still carried. "I'll keep looking at this. If that's okay."
"Take all the time you need," Samael assured him. "It's an important decision."
As Superboy headed upstairs to his room, Cassandra signed to Samael: 'He's adapting well.'
"Better than expected," Samael agreed quietly. "Though he has a long way to go. Cadmus did quite a number on him."
'And your plans for him?' Cassandra asked, her movements precise.
"To give him what I can," Samael replied simply. "Freedom. Choice. Family. The things that were taken from both of us. I always personally wanted a little brother." In this life and the last one.
Later that evening, as Samael and Cassandra prepared for bed, he noticed Superboy's light still on under his door. Curious, he paused, listening with his enhanced senses. He could hear pages turning – the clone was still looking through the name book.
In his room, Superboy sat cross-legged on his bed, the book open before him. He had been through it several times now, reading each name and its meaning carefully.
None had seemed quite right – too common, too strange, too connected to things he didn't understand.
But now, as he flipped through the pages one more time, his eyes caught on a name he had passed over before. It wasn't one Samael had suggested, but something about it resonated deep within him.
Adam.
The entry was simple: "Adam – Hebrew origin. Meaning: 'Man,' 'Earth,' 'First of a kind.'"
First of a kind. The words echoed in his mind. He wasn't Superman. He wasn't Lex Luthor. He was something new – the first of his kind. A beginning.
His finger traced the letters slowly, feeling a strange connection to this simple, old name. Adam. It felt right somehow. His own choice, not something given to him by creators or captors.
He closed the book, decision made, though he wouldn't announce it just yet. He wanted to sit with it a while longer, to make sure. But in his mind, he was already trying it on.
Adam. His name was Adam.
----------------------
The digital clock on the nightstand read 3:07 AM when Cassandra stirred, her senses alerting her to movement in the room.
She sat up immediately, the sheets falling away from her bare shoulders as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.
Samael stood by the window, fully dressed in an elegant black suit, his back to her as he gazed out at the night sky.
"Where are you going?" she asked - vocally out of surprise - instantly alert despite the hour. "Why are you dressed?"
He turned to face her, and Cassandra felt her breath catch. His eyes burned with red light, hellfire dancing within their depths.
Yet his expression was gentle, a soft smile playing on his lips that contrasted starkly with the infernal glow.
"Don't worry," he said, "Everything is fine."
With a fluid gesture, he extended his hand, and Cassandra felt a wave of warmth wash over her – his grace, she recognized, enveloping her in its protective embrace.
The sensation extended beyond her, flowing through the walls of the mansion, encompassing their home and, she sensed, reaching to Superboy's room down the hall.
"I'll be back soon," Samael continued, his smile widening slightly. "I just have an something to do."
Before she could question him further, the air behind him seemed to ripple and tear.
For the briefest moment, Cassandra caught a glimpse of something impossible – six massive wings of light and shadow, stretching out from Samael's back, unfurling.
Then, with a sound like the beating of a thousand birds' wings, he was gone, leaving behind only the lingering warmth of his protection.
Cassandra wrapped the blanket around her naked form and rose from the bed, moving to the window. She looked up at the night sky, stars unusually bright against Gotham's perpetual haze.
She couldn't see where he had gone, but somehow, she had a feeling she knew where he was going.
A chill ran through her despite the warmth of his normally cool grace. Whatever he was planning, she hoped he knew what he was doing.
---------------------
In the Silver City, at the Gate of the Seventh Heaven, two guardian angels stood their eternal watch. Their armor gleamed with celestial light, their wings folded neatly behind them, their expressions serene yet vigilant.
"I still say Uriel is being overly cautious," the first angel, Jehoel, was saying. "Increasing the guard rotation at the Pearly Gates seems excessive. It's not as if the Lightbringer would simply walk up and knock."
"You weren't there during the Rebellion," his companion, Castiel, replied. "You didn't see what happened. The devastation. The loss. If Uriel believes precautions are necessary, then I trust his judgment."
"But this new Lightbringer isn't Lucifer," Jehoel argued. "From what I've heard, he's still finding his way. Still learning his power. Hardly a threat to Heaven's order."
"That's what makes him dangerous," Castiel countered. "Unpredictability. At least with Lucifer, we knew where we stood. This one-"
Their debate was suddenly interrupted by a strange sound drifting through the heavens – music, but unlike the celestial harmonies that usually filled Heaven's halls.
This was rougher, earthier, distinctly human.
Someone was singing and bringing music with him.
Knock, knock, knockin' on Heaven's door...
The two angels fell silent, exchanging bewildered glances as the music grew louder, as if approaching.
Knock, knock, knockin' on Heaven's door...
Then, to their absolute shock, there came an actual knocking sound – three distinct raps against the massive pearly gate they guarded.
Before either could react, the gate creaked open slightly, just enough for a head to poke through.
A young man with dark hair and striking features peered in, his eyes burning with hellfire red light, a wide, beautiful smile spreading across his face.
"Excuse me," Samael said cheerfully, "but is this the right place? I'm looking for God. Is He in?"
-----------------------------
(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
So, Samael finally went to Heaven! Do tell me, why do you think he's gone there? And what do you think is going to happen?
Also, tell me how you found Superboy's new name, I wanted to make him distinct from his canon counterpart, and I found Adam fitting.
I was for the fun of it, thinking Dean, but Samael's the older brother, so Adam I found more fitting.
Well, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)