The autumn sunlight filtered through the gothic architecture of Gotham University's main library, casting long shadows across ancient tomes and modern textbooks alike.
Samael sat at a heavy oak table, surrounded by stacks of books on theoretical physics - a subject he found moderately interesting, if somewhat limited by humanity's current understanding of the universe.
Across from him, Cassandra turned a page in her own book on criminal psychology, a subject she'd taken a mild interest in since their enrollment.
Her eyes occasionally flicked up to study him, concern evident in her gaze though she kept her expression neutral.
The path to university had been surprisingly straightforward, despite Samael's unusual circumstances.
Lex Luthor's influence had smoothed the administrative hurdles that might have tripped up anyone else with a nineteen-year gap in their education.
Official records showed that Samael had received private tutoring after his coma -
a fiction created by backdated documentation and generously compensated "tutors" who would confirm they had read to him, taught him, and even administered tests and that he because of his immense intelligence passed with flying colors.
The truth, of course, was far simpler. Samael's archangelic nature gave him access to knowledge beyond human comprehension.
The challenge wasn't learning the material - it was not accessing that knowledge and giving himself something to do.
To act like he doesn't know it already, maintaining the façade of a brilliant but still human student rather than a being who had witnessed through timeless inherent knowledge in his grace the birth of stars at his - Lucifer's - hands.
"You're staring again," Samael noted without looking up from his book.
Cassandra's hands moved in subtle signs: 'Worried about you.'
"Unnecessary," he replied, his tone light but with an undertone of finality that suggested the topic wasn't open for discussion. "I'm perfectly fine."
She signed again: 'Heaven. What happened?'
Samael finally looked up, his expression carefully neutral. "I told you. I had a chat with my Father. It didn't go as planned. End of story."
Cassandra's eyes narrowed slightly.
She knew there was more - much more - that he wasn't telling her.
The fact that Samael had gone to Heaven to speak with God Himself was still something she struggled to fully comprehend.
Her boyfriend, the man she shared her bed with, had stood in the presence of the Creator of All Things. And apparently, it hadn't gone well.
The concept was simultaneously awe-inspiring and terrifying.
What did one even say to God? What had God said to him? And what consequences might follow a disagreement with the divine?
These questions had haunted her since Samael's return two nights ago, but he had steadfastly refused to elaborate.
Instead, he had thrown himself into mundane activities with almost manic enthusiasm - cooking elaborate meals, watching mindless television shows, and now, focusing intently on university life as if nothing extraordinary had happened.
'Can I help?' she signed, conveying the depth of her concern through her movements.
Samael's expression softened slightly. "Not with this," he said, his voice gentler. "But I appreciate the offer."
Before Cassandra could press further, a familiar voice interrupted their exchange.
"Well, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence again."
Barbara Gordon approached their table, her red hair pulled back in a practical ponytail, arms full of computer science textbooks. Her smile was friendly but held a hint of challenge.
"Barbara," Samael greeted her, his mood visibly shifting to something more sociable. "How lovely to see you again. I trust the university hasn't collapsed in my brief absence?"
"We managed to soldier on somehow," she replied dryly, setting her books down and taking the seat next to Cassandra. "Though Professor Nakamura did mention that his lectures seemed to lack a certain pretentious questioning lately."
"I prefer to think of it as 'intellectual curiosity,'" Samael countered with a smirk.
"Potato, po-tah-to." Barbara shrugged, then turned to Cassandra with a genuine smile. "Hey, Wren. How are you holding up with this one?" She nodded toward Samael.
Cassandra's lips quirked in what might have been amusement as she signed: 'Never boring.'
Barbara laughed, understanding her sign language from her father's training. "I bet."
"So where have you been the past two weeks? The rumor mill has been working overtime - everything from 'secret Luthor family business' to 'eloped to Vegas.'"
"Sadly, nothing so exciting," Samael replied smoothly. "Just taking some time to settle into Gotham properly. The first week was more of an... audition, to see if university life suited me."
"And does it?" Barbara asked, her tone suggesting genuine interest beneath the banter.
Samael considered this for a moment. "It has its charms," he admitted. "Though I find the pace somewhat leisurely."
"Only you would call a full course load at Gotham U 'leisurely,'" Barbara said with a shake of her head. "Most students are drowning in assignments by now."
"Different perspectives," Samael said with a casual wave of his hand. "Speaking of which, I heard there's an interesting lecture on information security this afternoon. Planning to attend?"
"Wouldn't miss it," Barbara confirmed. "Professor Martinez is a pioneer in the field. I've read all her papers."
"All of them?" Samael raised an eyebrow. "Color me impressed. I've only managed to get through her work on quantum encryption protocols."
Barbara's eyes lit up with excitement. "That's actually her most groundbreaking research!
The way she approaches the problem from a non-linear perspective completely revolutionizes how we think about data security in a post-quantum computing world."
As Barbara launched into a detailed explanation of the professor's methodology, Cassandra observed the interaction with interest.
She had noticed that Samael seemed to genuinely enjoy Barbara's company - not in the way he appreciated most humans, with a sort of detached amusement, but with actual respect for her intellect.
It was a side of him she was glad to see. For all his power and ancient knowledge, Samael sometimes struggled to connect with humanity on a meaningful level.
Finding someone whose mind he respected besides her, Mercy and his father was rare and, she thought, probably good for him.
"-and that's why her approach to cryptographic resilience is so important," Barbara was saying, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke. "Especially with the rise in meta-human and extraterrestrial threats to digital infrastructure."
"An interesting point," Samael acknowledged. "Though I wonder if she's considered the implications of dimensional variance in quantum states. Theoretical models suggest that-"
He caught himself, realizing he was veering into knowledge no university student should possess. "Well, perhaps that's a question for the lecture."
Barbara gave him an odd look but didn't press the issue. "We should head over soon if we want good seats. The auditorium fills up quickly for her talks."
As they gathered their books, Cassandra noticed a subtle tension in Samael's movements - a barely perceptible rigidity that hadn't been there before.
His eyes briefly unfocused, as if listening to something beyond human hearing.
'Problem?' she signed discreetly.
Samael shook his head slightly, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. "Just remembered something I need to take care of later," he said lightly. "Nothing important."
They made their way across campus, the autumn air crisp and invigorating.
"So, Barbara," Samael said as they walked, "I've been meaning to ask - what drew you to computer science? You seem to have quite the passion for it."
Barbara adjusted her glasses, considering the question. "I've always been good with patterns, with systems. Computers are just... logical. There's a clarity to code that you don't find in most of life."
She smiled slightly. "Plus, information is power. The more you understand about how data works, how it's protected and accessed, the more you understand about how the modern world functions."
"Control through knowledge," Samael observed. "A philosophy I can appreciate."
"Not control," Barbara corrected firmly. "Understanding. There's a difference."
"Is there?" Samael's tone was genuinely curious. "One could argue that true understanding inevitably leads to a form of control."
"One could argue lots of things," Barbara replied with a hint of challenge in her voice. "Doesn't make them right."
Cassandra watched this exchange with interest.
Most people were either intimidated by Samael or eager to impress him - a consequence of both his natural charisma and the Luthor name.
Barbara, however, seemed perfectly comfortable disagreeing with him, treating him as an intellectual equal rather than someone to be feared or flattered.
"Fair point," Samael conceded with good grace. "Though I maintain that the line between understanding and control is thinner than most people realize."
"Maybe," Barbara allowed. "But intention matters. Why you seek understanding changes what you do with it."
They reached the lecture hall, already filling with students eager to hear the renowned professor speak.
As they found seats near the front, Barbara turned to them with a slightly hesitant expression.
"Listen, a few of us usually grab coffee after Martinez's lectures to discuss the material. You two are welcome to join, if you'd like."
The invitation was casual but significant - a step beyond their previous academic interactions toward something more social.
Cassandra looked to Samael, curious about his response. Social engagements with others weren't typically his priority.
"That sounds delightful," Samael replied, surprising her slightly. "Though I should warn you, my coffee opinions are rather strong. I've been known to judge people harshly for ordering anything with more than two syllables."
Barbara grinned. "Says the guy who I bet orders something pretentious like 'single-origin Ethiopian pour-over.'"
"A respectable choice that honors the bean's natural characteristics," Samael defended with mock seriousness. "Unlike those syrupy concoctions that masquerade as coffee."
Cassandra's lips twitched in amusement as she signed: 'He's a coffee snob.'
Barbara laughed. "I can see that. Well, fair warning - the place we go is more about caffeine content than artisanal quality. Students on a budget can't be too picky."
"I'll manage to suppress my disdain," Samael assured her dryly.
The lecture proved to be as fascinating as Barbara had promised.
Professor Martinez was a dynamic speaker who managed to make complex cryptographic concepts accessible without oversimplifying them.
Samael, despite already understanding the material at a level far beyond what was being presented, found himself appreciating her way of teaching.
Throughout the presentation, Cassandra continued to observe Samael closely.
Twice more she noticed that momentary distraction, that slight unfocusing of his eyes as if he were hearing something beyond the lecture hall.
Each time, it passed quickly, and he gave no indication that anything was wrong.
After the lecture, they joined Barbara and a small group of computer science students at a crowded coffee shop just off campus.
As predicted, Samael made a show of wincing at the menu before ordering a simple black coffee, while Cassandra opted for tea.
The conversation flowed easily, ranging from the lecture's key points to broader discussions about technology's role in society.
Samael, Cassandra noticed, was making a conscious effort to engage at a human level - limiting his insights to what a brilliant but still human student might know,
asking questions he already had answers to, allowing others to explain concepts he had understood with knowledge that existed since before their very civilization,
showing still a more acceptable perspective of the world, then an archangel's that looks down from a higher place.
It was a performance, but a generous one.
He was giving these students the gift of feeling intellectually valuable, of believing they could teach him something.
For a being who could, with a thought, know everything they had ever learned or would learn, it was an act of surprising humility.
"So, Samael," one of the students - a lanky young man named Ethan - asked during a lull in the conversation, "is it true you were in a coma for like, two decades?"
An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Barbara shot Ethan a warning look.
"Approximately nineteen years," Samael confirmed, seemingly unbothered by the direct question. "From shortly after birth until quite recently."
"Sorry, that was super personal," Ethan backpedaled, looking embarrassed. "I just heard about it and-"
"No need to apologize," Samael interrupted smoothly. "It's hardly a secret. And yes, before you ask the inevitable follow-up question, it does make for a rather unusual educational background."
"How did you catch up so quickly?" another student asked, curiosity overcoming politeness.
Samael's smile was enigmatic. "My father arranged for extensive tutoring during my recovery. And I've always been a quick study."
The understatement was so profound that Cassandra had to hide her reaction behind her teacup. A "quick study" who had created a new form of angel within months of awakening.
"That's incredible," Barbara said, her tone suggesting she suspected there was more to the story. "Most people would need years of rehabilitation just to handle basic functions again."
"I'm not most people," Samael replied.
The conversation gradually shifted to other topics, and as the afternoon wore on, the group began to disperse. Eventually, only Samael, Cassandra, and Barbara remained.
"Thanks for joining us," Barbara said as they gathered their things. "It was nice having some fresh views in the discussion."
"The pleasure was ours," Samael replied. "We should do it again sometime."
Barbara nodded, then hesitated slightly. "Listen, this might sound odd, but... if you ever need help navigating university politics or just want someone to show you around Gotham properly, let me know.
This city can be... complicated for newcomers."
The offer seemed to go beyond simple courtesy, though Cassandra couldn't quite place what lay beneath it. Concern? Curiosity? Something else entirely?
"That's very kind," Samael said, studying Barbara with subtle intensity. "I may take you up on that. Gotham does seem to have its own unique... ecosystem."
"You have no idea," Barbara muttered, almost to herself. Then, more clearly: "Anyway, I should get going. My dad's expecting me for dinner, and he gets worried if I'm late."
"The Commissioner is a busy man," Samael observed. "It's good he makes time for family."
Something flickered across Barbara's face - surprise, perhaps, that he knew her father's position - in the more familial sense, that he would have trouble making time, though it wasn't exactly a secret.
"Yeah, well, in Gotham especially, you learn to value the time you have with people," she said, her tone suggesting deeper meaning. "See you both in Nakamura's class tomorrow?"
"We'll be there," Samael confirmed.
As Barbara left, Cassandra turned to Samael with a questioning look.
"Yes, she's interesting," he said, answering her unspoken observation. "Sharp mind. Observant. There's more to her than she lets on."
Cassandra nodded in agreement. She had noticed it too - the way Barbara's eyes catalogued details, the careful way she phrased certain questions, the physical awareness she maintained despite her scholarly demeanor.
Barbara Gordon was no ordinary student.
'Friend?' Cassandra signed as they began walking toward where their driver waited.
Samael considered this. "Perhaps," he said finally. "Though I'm not entirely sure she trusts me yet. The Luthor name carries certain... associations."
The drive back to the Bristol district was quiet, Samael gazing out the window at Gotham's skyline with a distant expression.
Cassandra didn't press him further about Heaven or his Father, respecting his boundaries while remaining vigilant for any sign that he might be ready to discuss it.
Unknown to her, the far away look he's been getting was caused by sometimes accidentally listening in to Angel Radio, hearing what the angels were saying about him, despite trying to tune anything supernatural out, and use only his human senses the last two days.
As they approached the mansion's gates, Samael suddenly stiffened, his entire demeanor changing in an instant.
"Stop the car," he commanded, his voice sharp.
The driver immediately complied, bringing the vehicle to a halt several hundred yards from the entrance. Samael was already opening his door before they had fully stopped.
"Stay here," he told the driver, then turned to Cassandra. "Something's wrong."
Cassandra was instantly alert, her hand moving to the concealed weapon at her waist. She signed quickly: 'What do you sense?'
"Intruders," Samael replied, his eyes beginning to glow faintly with hellfire. "The security system has been compromised. And Adam is in danger."
They moved swiftly toward the mansion, Cassandra taking point as they approached the gates.
The guards who should have been stationed there were nowhere to be seen. The gates themselves stood open - not forced, but deactivated from within.
As they entered the grounds, the extent of the breach became clear.
Security personnel lay unconscious at regular intervals, their positions suggesting they had been systematically neutralized by someone with extensive training.
There were no signs of gunfire or excessive force - just precise strikes.
The mansion itself showed actual signs fighting and resisting.
A section of wall on the east wing had been punched through, creating a ragged opening large enough for a person to enter.
Several windows were shattered, and the front door hung open, its electronic lock disabled.
Cassandra moved ahead, her movements fluid and silent as she assessed the situation. Samael followed, his casual demeanor completely gone, replaced by something older, colder, more dangerous.
They entered through the front door, Cassandra scanning for threats as they moved through the foyer.
The interior of the mansion showed signs of a brief but intense struggle -overturned furniture, cracked walls, scattered belongings.
They found Adam in the main living room, unconscious on the floor.
The room bore the clearest evidence of resistance - multiple impact craters in the walls suggested he had used his super-strength before being subdued.
A faint green glow emanated from a device attached to his chest, and the air carried the subtle scent of a sleeping agent.
Kryptonite. Not enough to kill him, but sufficient to weaken him so the gas could take effect.
Cassandra knelt beside Adam, checking his pulse and breathing. She signed quickly to Samael: 'Alive. Stable. Drugged.'
Samael nodded, his attention already shifting to the figure who had just entered the room from the adjoining study.
She was striking - tall and graceful, with long brown hair and piercing green eyes.
Her black bodysuit was clearly designed for combat, form-fitting but practical, with numerous concealed weapons evident to those who knew what to look for.
A sword hung at her waist, its hilt worn from use but well-maintained.
"Samael Luthor," she said, her voice carrying a hint of an accent, "I apologize for the dramatic entrance. Your security systems were more extensive than anticipated."
Samael's expression shifted to a cheerful smile that didn't reach his eyes. The hellfire glow receded, replaced by a mask of pleasant curiosity that was somehow more unsettling.
"How fascinating," he replied, his tone conversational despite the situation. "A home invasion with a side of assault. May I ask who you are and what possible reason you could have for this very much unwelcome visit?"
The woman inclined her head slightly - not quite a bow, but an acknowledgment of his status.
"My name is Talia al Ghul," she said. "Daughter of Ra's al Ghul, heir to the Demon's Head."
Cassandra tensed at the name, her body shifting subtly into a more ready combat stance. The League of Shadows was legendary in assassin circles - ancient, powerful, and utterly ruthless.
"Charmed, I'm sure," Samael replied dryly. "That explains the how, but not the why. The League of Shadows rarely moves without purpose."
Talia's green eyes studied him with unsettling intensity, as if searching for something beyond his human appearance.
"I am here," she said finally, "on the orders of our Mother."
The words hung in the air.
Samael's pleasant expression didn't change, but something shifted in his eyes.
"'Our' Mother," he repeated, "How very interesting. I wasn't aware I shared one with you."
-----------------------
(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
Do tell me how you found it. So Talia is here.
Immediately stating 'Our Mother' out of the gate is pretty wild, but was a fun thought, since her own mother is now possessed by Samael's Mother,
And Asherah stating that Melisande is a 'part' of her, well, it is quite the interesting beginning to a relationship, I'll tell you that much.
Do tell me what you think will happen. How do you think Samael will deal with her for hurting his little brother and intruding on his home.
Also, what do you think of the Barbara situation between Samael and Cassandra, almost becoming friends - keep in mind, Barbara is not batgirl in this yet, if she'll ever be that is.
Well, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)