When Sadie returned to her senses, she pushed upward with a kink in her neck and a hand pressed to her forehead. As she tried to get the feel of her surroundings, she realized she laid atop a park bench, as if she'd dozed off. That was already unusual, and only grew more so as she examined it. The bench wasn't formed of smoothed wood grain, despite its brown color. Her seat was composed of countless, tiny, free-flowing strokes of paint. As her cognition slowly returned to her, she realized the bench sat in the middle of a park. And then she saw that everything, every blade of grass, every bit of concrete, even the playground equipment in the distance, was similarly produced from countless strokes of a paintbrush dabbed in light, flowing watercolors. The only thing that didn't take on that quality was the sky, which was a pure, uninterrupted white. It wasn't formed of clouds; she'd at least see a break in their formations. No, at this point it only made sense that the sky was fresh, unpainted canvas.

"Sadie, daughter of Joanne, and daughter of Carl, welcome. You've returned to yourself. Good. At long last, we can speak unencumbered."

Sadie turned toward the voice, this time it sounded different from how it always had before. At the end of the painted bench, its form and composition incongruous with its surroundings, floated the Spectre. It still spoke with many voices at once, but one sounded as if it came in clearer than the rest. The strongest voice was that of a young woman with a slight rasp. It didn't sound exactly right in Sadie's estimation, but the implication still felt evident: the strongest voice was a copy of her own.

"What… what is all this?"

"This is the center of your being. A place created by your memories, your perceptions, and your soul."

She pushed up from the bench and looked around at the strange world that surrounded them. The playground in the distance came into focus enough for her to identify a big slide in the shape of a rocket ship. To her other side she identified an outdoor stage and, just as she did, the distant sounds of guitars and drums started to play.

"I made all this? Really? I would think if I created this I'd feel more comfortable. This is off putting."

"How many mortals do you know who are truly comfortable glimpsing all they are?"

"All right, point taken. Glad I'm not still in the closet then." As the strangeness of the situation slowly became real, Sadie shook her head as if she could clear her perception. "But what are we doing here then? The fight—Cassie, Kedar, all that—"

"It is still happening back in the primary reality. Every instant within this place is far elongated. Both of those two are running at a mad dash to intercept my spirit. If we spoke for a thousand years, they would not make it from one step to the next."

"All right, all right." Sadie pinched the bridge of her nose and looked around at the surreal landscape for another moment before she asked, "So, intercept you? What happened during Cassie's fight with Kedar, exactly?"

"His broken bonds broke his bonds with me. She successfully liberated me from his being and, given the opportunity, I entered you."

Sadie winced and took a step backwards. "What? That's why you're here? But—but why? You didn't have any reason to come back to me. You—"

"I told you you understood so little. You were always my intended tether; however roundabout our union became."

With her mouth already open to respond, Sadie froze and she just stared.

"Your next question is apparent. You want to know why I would have chosen you, is that right?"

Still in shock, Sadie gave the Spectre a slow, dumbstruck nod.

"This power was never meant to be used by those who are extraordinary. Even your dear one has spent a life already entrenched in battle with evil forces, to say nothing of one such as Kedar. My tether is meant to be of more modest history."

"But… but I—I—"

"In a world that grows more secular, it was inevitable I would eventually take an agnostic as my host."

"And you and your boss really don't care that I'm a lesbian?"

The Spectre uttered a short, disgusted sound. "I was one of the strangers threatened by the rabble just before Sodom and Gomorrah were annihilated. The sexual preferences of those men had nothing to do with their destruction. Even Ezekiel declared their sin was a lack of hospitality. I don't know why believers still cling to the preferences bit so desperately."

"That's, uh, reassuring. Thanks." With a shudder running through her body, Sadie asked, "And was I going to be given a choice in this?"

"The tether is always given a choice. But ordinarily the choice is: join with me, or accept your death." When Sadie didn't rush to respond, the Spectre continued, "Your body was trapped under a collapsing roof of burning wreckage, you will recall. The diamond that bound us allowed you to siphon my power to sustain your life. Were it not for my being trapped within it, I would have appeared to you at the moment of your death and given you the opportunity to become my tether."

"And if I do agree—if I became your tether—what would happen to me?"

With a beckoning hand, the Spectre walked toward the center of the park. "Come. We will discuss."

Unsure if she had the power to resist, Sadie dipped her hands into her jacket and sped to catch up. For a minute the two walked along a concrete path. The Spectre slowed as they approached a deep, blue-green pond that sat in the middle of the park.

"Look here." The Spectre gestured toward the water. Sadie stepped forward and looked down. Without anything prompting it to do so, the water rippled as if one of them threw a rock into its center. And, after a few moments of it doing so, Sadie saw the two of them reflected in its surface, then saw as their two forms melded into one. She witnessed herself with the pale, white skin and the cloak of verdant green.

"If you accept your mortal death and join with me, my powers will be yours." A mass of black, inkblot-like shapes rose up on the water's surface. The blots split open in their centers and flashed mouths of long, carved teeth and sneered at the Sadie-Spectre. "At times, this work requires battle with forces of abstract evil—demons and monsters and the like." As the Spectre paused, the ink blots reformed into the shapes of shadowy humans. "But far more is given to what retribution must be paid to the sinners of this world."

Sadie trembled as the shadowy monsters writhed within their human-shaped outlines, as if they craved to burst free and cause misery. "So, it really is just like Kedar wanted? He took it to the extreme, but that's still what you're really about? Punishing the sinful?"

"Yes. But what defines the sinful is up to my host." The Spectre cast a hand over the water again. Those writhing human shadows stepped forward as something else rose up from the darkness to meet their leader. The lead shadow stepped up to the emerging shape like a pulpit and started to throw his hands about and move his head as if he was yelling. "How would you like to punish the preachers and politicians who dare tell you who you have their permission to love? Who would tell you what you can do with your own body?" Across from the raving creature of darkness, Sadie's cloaked reflection raised her hand. A powerful ripple ran sideways through the pond and toppled the bully at the stand so it careened downward upon those who threw their support behind it.

With a hesitation, Sadie considered the words, but said nothing.

"Even you admired some of Kedar's ideas, I know you did." The waters shifted. The lead shadow had reformed into a tall, thin shape with stick-thin arms extended outwards. A much smaller form in the shape of a little girl materialized in front of it as the shadow curled its fingers around the child's shoulders. Sadie was about to scream stop when a flash of light burst from the center of the pond. The shadow was cast backwards, and the tiny body was able to escape its clutches. "And we could turn the tables on the rest." Light from an unseen sun struck the water in such a way to produce a spectrum of colors like a rainbow. The shadow reformed into a dragon of ink and rose as if to devour it, but the spectrum let off a powerful shimmer that drove the beast backwards. "Retribution could be paid unto a world of assailants and bigots. I sense it is what you have long dreamed of."

Sadie stared at the images in the pond as the darkness continued to reformulate and throw itself forward. Again and again, her reflection rebuffed its efforts with a single cast of her hand.

"Pain unto the fathers who abandoned their children. Pain unto the mothers who abused them."

"… But I don't want my mom and dad to hurt anymore." Sadie lowered her head, but still sensed the Spectre give her a quizzical look. "I mean, sometimes I wish they'd say they were sorry for how crappy they were. But I'm not thinking about it all the time anymore. And I don't wanna torture it out of them." She wiped at a few tears that started to form in her eyes. "I don't know what my dad's doing at this point, I just hope he's doing it right. And my mom was fighting addictions. I—I think she's already in enough pain. I don't know if I forgive them, but I don't want to hurt them."

"Admirable," the Spectre said. "But what about the others? The bigots? The assailants? Wouldn't you like to visit suffering unto them?"

"I mean yeah, kinda," Sadie said. "But it's not like you ever stopped them all from doing their evil before. Did your previous hosts just not care about those things? It's not like they stopped the World Wars or any of Brainiac's invasions or whatever either."

"To want to change the entire world in one fell swoop was beyond the capacity of my past tethers," the Spectre said. "But you have already witnessed Kedar doing it. You have already seen it is possible. Tell me doing likewise isn't tempting."

A shake ran through Sadie's body, because of course it was. It all seemed so reasonable, she was a little kid putting her hand on a hot stove once to, after all. Kedar's worldview was warped by a lifetime of indoctrination and self-loathing. She, on the other hand, grew up in a world where the beliefs of others were acknowledged and not treated as Hell-worthy offences. She was from a world where erasure of a people and their culture was a war crime called genocide. And she was from a world where queer people banded together to throw parades and declare, 'We will not live in fear, and someday our terrified kin will not either.' Of course she was a better fit for the job, the Spectre intended she be the tether from the very beginning. All she had to do was—

As her mind lingered on one of those thoughts, her reflection started to ripple again. The faded body of a second, wholly human Sadie split off from her Spectre self, another woman materialized out of the ether, stepped up to her side and took her hand. Cassandra, it had to be Cassandra and the life they'd talked about sharing. It was another future, one she remembered she so desperately wanted.

"I can't keep being myself and the tether at the same time, can I?"

"Your being must leave its mortal shell before you can become one with me. As said before, dying is ordinarily a prerequisite, it would be join me or move on to the next life. But because this is a unique case, you could return to your mortal life if you reject my offer." The two stood in silence thereafter, but as the Spectre observed how Sadie only lingered on the reflection of herself and Cassandra, it let out a long breath and said, "I believe you have already made your decision."

"If I have, what are you going to do?"

"I will seek out another host. One of similar experience and temperament to yours, I suppose. In spite of his alleged abhorrence of bloodshed, Kedar's psychic attack upon the planet has left many dead or on death's doorstep. My choices are plentiful."

Sadie swallowed hard at the reminder. For a few moments, she considered just leaving the matter alone and accepting regaining consciousness. But something still pressed on her mind. "Spectre… there's something else. Can we just talk for a sec?"

The angel's amorphous form shifted briefly before it said, "I am listening."

She needed to force down the hesitation that followed. It would be so much easier to just walk away. But if she didn't seek this out, she might go the rest of her life with this hanging over her head. So, with a deep breath, she asked, "Does the world… still need you?"

Almost as soon as the words came out of her mouth, regret filled her stomach. Though the Spectre's shape was principally amorphous, it still, somehow, gave her the impression it was leveling a glare. "Still need me?"

High overhead, the white of unpainted canvas that was the sky began to darken like storm clouds. Nervous from the shift, Sadie turned her eyes upward. "I mean, we've just seen what happens when your powers get abused. What if you fell into someone else's hands. What if—"

A powerful gale tossed about the leaves on the painted trees and threw waves into the pond. Sadie shut her eyes when a splash of water rushed up into them.

"You think this world would be better without me?" The even tone in the Spectre's voices were gone. Other emotions, from fear to anger, tinged the chorus. "I extend an olive branch to a single non-believer and they already think they know better."

"Hold on—no!" Sadie raised her hands in a placating gesture as droplets started to fall from the sky. "I'm not trying to say—"

"I existed for eons before your lesser species came into being. I am the incarnation of wrath, of retribution, of judgement! Do you dare believe you are better off without me?"

Wherever rain fell, the painted landscape lost its integrity and started to wash away. When drops started to dissolve the pavement she stood on, Sadie screamed and ran for a nearby tree to duck under. It was paint too, she already knew that, but at least the leaves and branches might offer a little cover.

"Answer me!"

With her hands over her head, Sadie racked her brain for some answer. Was there even a point in trying to lie to a literal angel? Would she be seen right through? She tried to tell herself, "It's only a dream, it's only a dream." But just because Nijah could only inflict mental damage in a dream didn't mean the Spectre was susceptible to the same weakness.

"I said answer me!" Lightning flashed in the distance and thunder roared together with the Spectre's chorus.

As the tree over her head started to melt, Sadie dug deep for the truth as she understood it. "God is real. And he or she or whatever sent Jesus to die for our sins, right? Doesn't that mean divine retribution isn't necessary anymore?"

"Do you dare believe you can divorce the death of Christ from retribution? Do you not see how the sacrifice was necessary to wipe the slate clean?" Another round of thunder boomed behind the angel. "If not for retribution, why do you think it was so necessary for Christ to be sacrificed?"

Sadie's voice shook as she mumbled a response.

"Speak up! If you have something worth saying, then say it!"

As much as she tried to restrain herself, Sadie's words still came out as a scream: "I don't know! Okay? I'm not a damn philosopher—I don't know what dying on the cross was supposed to accomplish." She rose and stared down the Spectre as the last of the tree that covered her was washed away. When the Spectre did not respond, she sniffled and continued. "Is the dying really the most important part of that story? Or is the important part that he showed up, that he was the best of us, that he was killed for no good reason, and he still said, 'Forgive them, they don't know what they're doing.' That God—who's supposed to be all powerful and all-knowing and all good—lived as a human, sat beside his imperfect creations, and said, 'I love you, no matter what.'" By this point, the tears were falling and her breaths were short as the world around her came undone. But Sadie pressed on nevertheless. "That we don't need retribution, because we're supposed to believe in mercy—in forgiveness—in love that's unconditional." As the storm raged on, she had to raise her voice to be heard. "I know God exists now, okay? But I already knew Zeus and Odin and people from Krypton existed too, and I never even thought about worshipping any of them. The only time God ever made sense to me, the only time I ever wanted any of this to be real, was when Cassie told me what she puts her faith in! Over and over again, that's been what I've thought—that the world needs more believers like her in it. And that believers like her have no need for revenge and retribution!"

With that last proclamation, the storm suddenly went deftly quiet. Raindrops froze in midair, the oozing of wet paint stopped where it dripped, and the Spectre stopped shifting. Sadie wiped her wet eyes with the sleeve of her jacket and held the angel's strange stare.

"… And so at last it comes to this," the Spectre said.

With a hard, nervous swallow, Sadie asked, "Comes to what?"

"Long ago, when I still bore the name Aztariel and I was first charged with these orders, the Presence said there would come a day in which humanity had no further need of me."

Only slightly relaxed in her stiffness from the fear the Spectre brought on, Sadie said, "Is that yet another name for God?"

The Spectre ignored that question and pressed on. "I long believed that would not come until the day of judgement arrived. But you… your words… you have released me from my oath."

"I—I have? Is that good?"

"It is a sign that in spite of all your struggles and all of your shortcomings, you truly are ascending as a species." In its own strange way, the angel looked upward. "Not all of you, perhaps, not yet. But some of you are." With a slow turn, it leveled a far gentler look back toward Sadie. "Some of you who will doubtless lead the rest of your world into the future. A better, gentler future."

With blood rushing to her cheeks, Sadie looked down. "Uh, let's not give me too much credit here. I'm—I'm just an artist. Every artist dreams they're gonna change the world, but not all that many of us actually do." A quiet calm passed between the two for a few moments—or maybe much longer, Sadie's sense of time's passage felt like a mess. When she worked up to the question, she asked, "So, what, are you done here then?"

"You have released me from my obligation. I can at last return to the kingdom. And when I go, it is doubtless bits of my influence that have spread throughout the millennia will depart with me. I can't speak to if it will be a great change or a small one, but you should arise in a less vengeful world."

"Wait, really? Awesome."

Something Sadie had never heard before in the choir came into those last few words. Nervousness, if she had to put a name to it. "I have not seen the Presence or my heavenly siblings in so long. It remains an overwhelming prospect."

Sadie stepped up to the Angel's side. "Someone a lot more religious minded than me recently talked to me about having an encounter like that. They said, 'Don't think of it as transformation. Think of it as a welcoming.' That they're telling you that they see you, and that they're happy you're there."

The Spectre's shifting form moved up and down as if it were nodding. "Wise words. I thank you." And it turned from her, as if it meant to depart.

"Hey, wait, Spectre."

The angel stopped and turned back toward her.

"I still don't believe in retribution to heal the world. But there's going to be one problem left when I wake up. Can you give me a hand with it?"

-000-

Back in Gotham City, Damian Wayne struggled to keep Rafal's arms trapped above his head as he gripped a knife in one hand. "Damn it, stop," Damian said. "I feel it too, okay? I wanna bury it too, but hurting yourself isn't going to make it go away."

Without his electrolarynx, Rafal could not respond with words. He just swung his arms in erratic motions to try freeing them. The pain inside his brain threatened to make it burst from his skull, nearly two decades of violence was forced to the forefront. Even after all this family did for him, even as he'd tried to live a normal life, if this was the pain he must endure, living just wasn't worth it anymore.

The pressure released all at once. Rafal fell forward, the blade slipped from his hand and slid across the kitchen floor. All those agonizing memories—the kills, the degradation, the beaten face of Sister Mary Katya, it was all still with him. But nothing was pulling it to the surface anymore, and the nasty voice in his head settled.

With his breathing heavy, Damian asked, "All right… all right. Did that just stop for you too? Are you feeling any better?"

Rafal scooched around on the floor and buried his face in Damian's shoulder. A tiny "Rao," sounded from across the room, Cassandra's gray and white furred cat walked up, clearly none the wiser to what was going on, and rubbed up on Rafal's leg. For a moment, they just lingered like that. Damian struggled with empathetic contact at the best of times, but, forcing himself to think what his father might do, reached out and patted Rafal on the back and Ali on the head. "It's… it's all right. It's gonna be all right."

The phone in his pocket had never stopped buzzing. He pulled it out and gave it a scroll.

Grayson: Still don't know what that was. Is the worst of it over for you guys?

Kane: Doing better. Renee's still throwing up, but she said so too. It's like the bigots all just ran away.

Gordon: Me and Dad are OK now. There's still all kinds of accidents outside.

That felt like a hint to go get into costume and see what could be done. Damian would, if he felt like he could leave the manor. But right that moment, with Rafal still struggling, he remained on the kitchen floor. He and Ali were in the midst of rescuing one person already.

-000-

After drawing on a reserve of energy she didn't know she had to sprint, Hien emerged from the forest that surrounded the compound she'd escaped from. A stretch of road laid before her, and within minutes she found a car pulled off to the side. The driver within was trying to combat a migraine as the trembling, babbling Hien opened the front seat and begged for her help in a language she didn't understand.

Perhaps another day, the driver would have screamed that she begone, or accuse her of being a thief, or just resisted this sudden intrusion. But as the last remains of psychic pain melted away, she just saw a filthy, frightened little girl. Not so different from the daughter she'd dropped off at school half an hour before.

Separated by a language barrier, the driver reached out to tap her shoulder. When Hien shrunk away, she assumed there must be a good reason for that and did not press the issue. She wasn't actually ready to start driving again yet, but she pushed on through the lingering pain toward Kampong Thom anyway. This child needed a hospital.

-000-

Kzzzzrt.

"Aye, lads and lasses. Co-captain again. I don't know about you lot, but all that pain I was in has started to dissipate. I shook the captain a bit, he's still out of it, but at least he's awake again. I don't know if we're gonna have any more unexpected turbulence like that, we still have a ways to go before we hit Sydney. I hear some of the sprogs still screaming—I say it's all right. Let it all out. If you gotta scream too, do what you have to. We're all just trying to get by today. If we got any more snacks and fizzy drinks to go around, the flight attendants should bring them by, if they're feeling able. Just hang in there best you can, it's what the rest of us are doing. Think on the people you love. And if they're there with you, go ahead and tell them again."

-000-

As soon as the pain started to lessen, Rosie's vision came back into focus, he saw the Mifepristone under the counter. Before the attack could begin again, he grabbed the pill with dust and hair clinging to it, shoved it in his mouth, and swallowed hard. It caught in his throat and made him gag as he pushed back to his feet. Brenda entered as he was slamming on the counter.

"Whatever that was, I guess it just—Christ, Rosie, you all right?"

Rosie struggled to form words, but he managed to mouth, "Water, water!"

Brenda stepped around the shattered glass on the floor, filled up cup at the tap and passed it on. Rosie drank and, at last, forced the pill down. The fact that he'd still have to take a dose of misoprostol at some point turned his stomach. With a pat on his back, Brenda said, "You all right?"

"I'll be fine." Rosie's voice was still shaken by the choke, he beat his sternum to try clearing things out. In the throes of that—that—whatever that was, a lot of painful thoughts ran through his head. He'd heard condemning words of his mum and dad. He imagined mocking from Brenda, and they'd been best mates since primary school. And he was reminded of the arduous systems the government set in place to make life a living Hell for a young man born with the wrong bits.

But at no point in that ordeal did it cross his mind, I shouldn't do this, it's just not worth it.

-000-

Emilio only very slightly loosened his grip on Lupe when the worst of the ache finally leveled out. Left with a pounding headache from the experience, he asked, "Are you all right, amor?"

Lupe sat up and rubbed her forehead. "I, I think so. I think it's passing." She let out a long groan. "What in the world was that?"

They both sat quietly for a minute before Lupe's cellphone started to vibrate on the bedside table. Emilio reached over and picked it up. Even in the dark of the room, Lupe saw his eyes go wide.

"What is it?" She asked. "Who is it?"

"It's—ah—the caller ID says Armand."

Still in the midst of her recovery, Lupe's heart dropped into her stomach. She very nearly commanded, Emilio to hang up right that instant. But something else, maybe just the struggle to recover from all that had just been inflicted, stayed her anger. On the fifth ring she said, "Will you screen it for me?"

"You sure you want me to?"

Lupe hesitated, but after another ring, she nodded.

With the practiced cadence of someone who took up this task for a loved one with social anxieties before, Emilio entered her password and answered the phone. "Buenos dias." He paused for a moment then scowled at the phone. "No, my name is Emilio. No one in this house goes by that name." The voice on the other end said something Lupe couldn't make out in reply. "Yes, the person who used to use that name is here. She goes by Lupe now. And I'm not even going to consider handing off the phone if you're going to call her anything else." More garbled words came quick over the line. Emilio waited as the other voice just kept going and going. When it finally quieted, he said, "I'll ask her." He then lowered the phone and looked to Lupe. "He's pleading to talk to you. He says he felt whatever that thing was all the way in El Paso, and that he assumes the effect was worse for you. I've never met him, I don't know if he's being honest, but he sounds real shaken up."

Lupe stared at the device for a few nervous beats before she extended a hand and nodded. Emilio passed it to her and gave his best solemn, reassuring nod back.

"Armand? It's me. Your prima."

"My… my prima. Yes." He was clearly uncomfortable, but he pressed on. "Did… did you feel that?"

As she pinched the bridge of her nose, she said, "Yes, I did. And I suppose you did too."

"I—I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"Nineteen years. You've had nineteen years to ask me that question, Armand."

"I know. I know. I… first I was in pain. So much pain. I needed a distraction. And as I sat there with those raving lunatic thoughts in my head, I thought, 'Whoever is doing this, they've got to be hurting my cousin even more.' And—and I don't know. I was worried for you."

Lupe sat in silence as he pressed on.

"Please, cousin—please, Lupe. I just want to know you're all right. I don't care what your name is or who's there with you. I just want to know you're okay."

She felt so tempted to rake him over the coals. They were the eldest two of their generation in a large Latino family, once upon a time they'd been the best of friends. She'd been the first, and maybe the only, of the primos he confided in that he'd thought both boys and girls were pretty, and she'd never spoken about that to a soul. But as soon as they all starting spewing their venom at her for wanting to wear dresses and asking them to please call her a different name, Armand never came to her defense. She could demand to know where he'd been all those years. She could ask if the psychic pain hurt so bad because he'd been seeing someone else behind his wife's back. All of those snatches of retribution felt so tempting.

And yet, all of those prospects turned to sand on her tongue before she could say them. Lupe didn't know how long she wanted to be on the phone with him, but right that moment, it seemed he wished her no harm. So, she couldn't bring herself to wish him any either.

"I'm… I'm alive, primo. And the pain is passing."

"I'm glad to know that. I understand if you don't want to talk, I won't keep you. I just hated the idea of what you might be going through, and hated the thought you might be going through it alone."

Lupe turned to Emilio, stalwart and reassuring in his presence as ever on the other end of the bed. "No. I wasn't alone. You spoke with him briefly. His name is Emilio, and we love one another dearly. He is my husband in all but the law, my family in all but blood."

The quiet that followed suggested reluctance to respond. But, given long enough, Armand said, "Good. I am glad you have someone there to lean on. In spite of everything." Left unspoken, but still implied, it sounded like there was a question of, And perhaps I could be again too, someday?

"I'm still recovering right now," Lupe said. "I should rest."

"Of course, of course," Armand said. "If… um… if you ever want to talk again, perhaps without a tragedy attached—"

"You're the one who called me."

"I know." Armand blew out a tired breath. "I guess I meant, 'If you can stand to ever hear from me again—'"

"I know what you meant." Lupe let out a long exhale of her own. "I don't think this is a good time. But maybe later on, we can talk about this some more. Maybe."

"I'll leave you be, prima. I am just glad you're still in one piece."

Although the next words were reluctant, she did, ultimately, believe they were genuine. "Thank you for reaching out. I'm glad you are as well."

-000-

Even when the psychic infection passed, Father Zein didn't have a chance to slow down. The lingering effects remained all throughout sanctuary, they were rushed on the constant from blessings to medicine administrations to praying over the comatose.

But they did sense it when the criticizing voices in their mind receded. And at that same time, perhaps a few of the screams throughout the village settled if only by a little.

Under their breath as they hurried from one task to the next, they said, "Did you snatch victory back from the jaws of defeat, girls? I knew you could do it." They performed a sign of the cross and uttered a quiet, "Thank you." Then they turned their mind right back to their next task. A priest's work was never done.

-000-

An instant after Sadie fell to the ground and Angel and Kedar ran toward her, her body was consumed in an eruption of phantasmic green light. So far as either could see, Sadie's silhouette didn't rise, in one instant she was down, in the next she levitated. At her side, with the bleeding slowed, Nijah found strength enough to hold Sadie's jacket to her bloody wound. As the Spectre's green cloak materialized around her back, Sadie leveled a glare toward the Eldest of the Nephilim.

"Kedar, son of Nalia, and son of Geoffrey." Sadie's voice was backed by an unseen chorus and was tinged with fury. "You have cheated your judgement for far too long."

In a scramble, Kedar reached for where the Spear of Destiny fell from his body when the Spectre was freed. Angel leapt forward, grabbed the spear first, and pointed toward him.

"It—it can't be." Terror crept into Kedar's words. "She—she's not even a believer! You can't take her side, you can't—"

"Do you dare to question what an angel can or can't do?" Sadie raised and clenched her fist. "Of course you do. You've been putting words into the mouths of the divine for nearly a thousand years."

Kedar cast looks back and forth between Angel and Sadie as his body started to shiver. Then, in an explosion of terrified energy, he ran for the chapel adjacent to the courtyard. Undeterred, Sadie pursued him, Angel followed just behind.

Angel desperately wanted to believe this was a good thing. Anything had to be better than Kedar wielding all that power. But how much of what was happening was Sadie's will? Was she being subsumed? As much as she hated to do it, Angel scooped up, gripped the Spear of Destiny for fear she'd need to use it again, and followed them.

Inside the chapel, Kedar crouched on the floor between two rows of pews. Sadie hadn't come down from where she levitated and crossed through the threshold as if it were nothing. "You of all people should know God's house has no effect on my powers." As she closed the distance between them, winds picked up like a hurricane around her body. Pews were tossed from their places on the floor and smashed into walls. Kedar scrambled away and leaned against the stone altar that stood opposite the entrance.

"You—you—you wouldn't." Kedar cringed back and tried to shrink away as she came closer. "You wouldn't hurt me. All—all I'm tell you, all! All I've ever done was try to make this world a better place."

"A better place? You think you sought out a better place?" Sadie dragged out the question. "I have been entrusted with the power of an angel of God. The God of Abraham and Isaac. The God of the Israelites. The God whose only son, Jesus Christ, lived and died for this world."

Kedar started a frantic nod, and Angel felt close to interceding. That didn't sound like Sadie at all. Was her sense of self trapped within? Would she be forced to—

"The God of the Muslims and Jews. The God of the Hindus and Buddhists. And, indeed, the God of the atheists and agnostics. Because to have made all and to love all is to take all as children. To be a proper parent is to love, even when questioned and even when rejected."

These words and the accompanying winds looked as if they tore through Kedar on some spiritual level, and he stared, jaw slack, eyes bewildered. Angel relaxed her grip on the spear, just a little.

"I am herald of the God of the frightened and the suffering. The God of the queer and the questioning. The God of those who took a measure of creation into their own hands and remade their physical forms to match the soul they carried within."

That convinced Angel: it was, without question, Sadie in the driver's seat.

With a wave of her hand, whips of wind whirled around Kedar. He shouted as he was pulled from the ground, yanked into a straightened position in midair, and forced to stare at Sadie as she came to her conclusion.

"I am a servant to the Almighty, and also a servant to the beloved children of God you have abused." Kedar tried to turn his head away as she spoke, but the winds that surrounded him forced him to face forward. "Have you anything left to say before your punishment is inflicted?"

The last of the blood drained from Kedar's face. His body writhed as he asked, "Do you intend to do to me as I did to you?"

Sadie clenched one fist and unseen chains tightened against Kedar's body. He uttered a cry of pain. "I don't believe in torture as a method of changing people. I have something more decisive in mind."

It was as Kedar writhed in the air that Angel finally stepped in and called out, "Sadie, no! Can't let you do this."

She cast a look back at Angel as she stood in the doorway, the Spear of Destiny at the ready.

"I'll take the spirit out," Angel said. "Let me help you. You don't want this, you don't want to be a killer." She prepared for a fight, an objection from the creature fueling Sadie's bloodlust. She utterly despised the idea she might have to fight her beloved to save her beloved, but if the Spectre forced her hand—

Sadie drew out a long sigh and uttered a tiny laugh. "You always were direct, babe." The last word was rendered strange and utterly out of place backed by the inhuman choir that accompanied her every word. With a considerably less serious smirk now on her face, she turned back toward Kedar. "We're getting a little overdramatic for my girlfriend, it looks like. Let's get this over with." She raised a hand as if she was conducting an orchestra.

Tiny flecks of the Spectre's same phantasmic green color started to shed from Kedar's body. The flakes were gathered up in the wind that held him in place and slowly formed a swirl of light over his head. In renewed terror he screeched, "No—no!" Little by little, his black hair began to fade to a dull gray. His tight, muscled body lost its definition, and the youthful skin of his hands and face started to sag and wrinkle. Even his screams grew more ragged as centuries of youth were stripped from him.

With a gentle lower, Sadie's feet touched the ground again as, similarly, the alabaster of her skin and the green of her mantle started to split from her being. At the end of a minute, the Spectre and his long-lost power levitated overhead, each liberated from the hosts they were bound to.

"What—what have you done?" Kedar struggled to speak over a wheeze that rushed up his throat.

"I let the Spectre take back that power your father knocked out of it. When I asked what a fitting age to set you to would be, the Spectre said there's a part in Psalms that says seventy is the most an average person should expect. But you're a tough bastard and modern medicine has come a long way. I figured one and a half times that would be good. Your body is a hundred and five now. Maybe just enough time to get your last affairs in order." Sadie scowled at him. "Probably not enough time for your niece to forgive you though. You're gonna have to go to the grave with that one."

Kedar pushed upward and tried to throw himself at Sadie in one final act of defiance. But he lost his balance and collapsed before he took more than three steps.

"Good," she said. "Stay down."

When the Spectre transitioned back into its amorphous form, it reached out, and took its lost power back into itself. The wind ceased as a then ancient-looking Kedar fell to the chapel's floor. With its final arrangement with Sadie complete, the Spectre looked down at her. "It is finished," the spirit said. "Fare thee well, may humanity continue to overcome, as you have for so long."

"Thank you." Sadie nodded toward it. "We'll do our best, we're always trying to." Just as the Spectre turned away, after another moment's consideration, she called, "Hey, one more thing?" The Spectre did not respond, but did not disappear either. "I, uh, I don't know if God takes the whole, 'not being a believer' thing personally. But, you know. Maybe just say I am thankful I was created. This world's a mess, but it is worth fighting for." As Angel stepped up to her side, she added, "And worth loving in." She perceived only the tiniest of nods as the Spectre faded away for the final time.

-000-

The next hours passed in a slow daze. Father Gallagher, Gedeyon, and Joaquin were all handcuffed and moved into the chapel where their powers would be rendered impotent. There was little need to bother, the fight had gone out of most of them. Benjie remained the only of the Nephilim unaccounted for. And Gedeyon in particular just glared at Kedar's shriveled, ancient form and said, "I saw what you did to Nijah. You'd have stabbed any of us in the back."

Kedar tried to respond, but his voice was too weak and his body too weary.

Joaquin offered Alfred some assistance in trying to fix Nijah up. "My room is down the third hall on the right, sixth room on the second right. I've got stitches, disinfectant, whatever." When Alfred gave him a quizzical look, he added, "I need that stuff, I work with dead things all the time. And Nijah's a friend. You do what you have to do."

Indeed, with a steady hand, some wipes, and a needle and thread, Alfred deftly closed the wound. Nijah tried to say thank you, but even as she moved her lips, words did not flow out.

With a sad smile, Alfred said, "It seems he cut clean through your vocal cords. There are some solutions for that, but I'm still terribly sorry, miss."

Nijah's eyes started to fill with tears, not for the loss of her voice, but for the loss of her last beloved relative. She hugged her knees and wondered, if only for a moment, if a clear conscience was worth what she'd paid. She didn't enter the chapel to visit him, she didn't think she could stomach the sight of him again. He her betrayer, or he the crumbled and weak, either made her heart hurt.

Over the course of those hours, Stephanie, Tim, and Bruce all shook off the effects of Kedar's psychic attack. With much grumbling and rubbing at their heads, the Bat Family all made themselves as comfortable as they could alongside Cassandra and Sadie as they waited for reinforcements. Right around sunrise, a ragtag collection of available Justice League members and Titans still on earth gathered at the citadel to see Kedar and his minions carted off to face justice.

As the likes of Bart Allen, Donna Troy, Jaime Reyes, and Kyle Rayner arrived, Stephanie rose from where she sat. Cassandra and Sadie were slumped against the wall of the chapel, leaned against one another and fast asleep. Technically, they were supposed to be helping keep guard until reinforcements arrived. But no one dared contradict the exhaustion of the two women who had just saved the planet from mental subjugation.

"Hey, you guys, cavalry just arrived." Stephanie shook Cassandra's shoulder. Both squinted their eyes and looked up at her. "We're gonna get a ride back to the plane. It's over. It's finally over."

Cassandra just smiled and, as if she wasn't awake enough to totally understand, lowered her head again. But Sadie rose when she saw the Bat Family's costumed allies as they led the Order of Nephilim out of the chapel. "Hey—they you!"

The Green Lantern overseeing them turned when he heard her call.

"There's a girl in there—wearing a hijab? Her name's Nijah. She's done some bad stuff, but we wouldn't have won today without her help. Please, be gentle with her."

Kyle Rayner looked confused for a moment, but then gave her a nod. One by one the villains were filed out: First Joaquin, then Gedeyon, then Nijah with Donna Troy now walking slowly at her side. Father Gallagher came next, and Sadie turned away. She didn't need the see the shambling remains of Kedar again.

Stephanie left them to go speak to Tim and Bruce as they prepared to depart. Sadie looked down at Cassandra, dropped to one knee, and kissed her on the forehead.

With a squint of her eyes, Cassandra wandered back to the land of the waking. "Hey."

"Hey." Sadie smirked and, after just a moment, Cassandra showed her a tired smile back. "Hey, Cassie, I still have just a little bit of my break left." With every word, she spoke faster, as if to outrun her doubt. "Do you wanna go get married?'

Cassandra was pulled hard and fast out of her dreams, her eyes suddenly wide open, her body wide awake. "What?"

Sadie laughed, but there was an earnestness to it. "I just, you know. I've had a couple days now to really solidify my feelings and I… I don't wanna be apart anymore. I've just seen how crazy everything is out there. Being with you it the closest thing I can do to getting it to make sense." She looked up into Cassandra's eyes for a moment, but then looked down, red in her cheeks. "Go… geeze. Geeze, does this sound stupid? I don't have a ring, we'd still have to go somewhere else to have it done, we wouldn't even be able to live together until—"

With a wide opening of her arms, Cassandra grabbed Sadie into a tight embrace. "Don't care," she said. "Don't care about any of it. Yes. Yes. Yes yes yes yes yes."

It took Sadie a moment to reorient herself in the crushing hug, but she did. They lingered there for a moment, and then their lips met in a precious, passionate kiss.

They received nearly a minute like that before Bruce, still in his uniform, interrupted them with an, "Ahem." The two women, lightheaded and giggling by that point, looked up at him. "Everything is taken care of. We're headed back for Gotham."

Sadie rose and pulled Cassandra up with her. As they started a speedy walk to descend into the exit chambers to keep up with Bruce, Stephanie and Tim, Sadie asked, "Can we stop by Holland on the way home? Or maybe Sweden?"

Cassandra laughed and said, "You still don't have a passport."

"Oh, damn it, right. Well, how about Maine? Massachusetts?"

Stephanie slowed to get closer to them. "What are you two on about?"

"We wanna get married. Right now. We just need to pick a place it'll be legally binding."

Bruce froze up before he turned and looked back toward them. Similarly stunned, toward the front of the line, Tim turned. "You guys—you're leapfrogging us?" He sounded baffled, but there was an undercurrent of laughter.

"Well, I've gotta get back to school, and Steph's gotta grow her hair back out, right?" Sadie said. "Aw man, we're not steeling your thunder here, are we—"

"Alfred, does the betting pool even have a setup for this?"

Sadie chuckled as she looked to Cassandra, who had one hand tight in one of hers since they got moving. "Betting pool?"

"It's dumb." Cassandra's smile turned red with embarrassment. "Been betting on who in the family would marry first. Might have messed with it, no one would—"

"Of course it is, Master Timothy," Alfred said. "If they complete the ceremony, Master Damian wins the pot."

Tim demanded, "What?" Stephanie burst out into a laugh that echoed through the inner chamber. Even Bruce uttered an amused exhale as they approached the exit.

As they walked out into the emerging sunshine, the brutal events of the previous day finally passed. With arms intertwined, and hands held tight, Cassandra and Sadie stepped out into a new world.

With her head dipped down, Cassandra quietly prayed, "Thank you. Thank you thank you thank—"

"You don't have to say it all quiet for my sake, you know." Sadie gave a little tiny nudge of her elbow into one of Cassandra's ribs and she giggled. "Maybe I'm never really gonna get into the formalities, but it's a huge part of your life, I should be a part of it. Let me join in." She looked up, maybe with a little irony still, but absolutely with honesty too. "Thank you, God. For my beautiful new fiancé. I promise we'll get married again in a church just as soon as your fan club down here becomes as awesome as my wife to be."

Tickled just to hear the word, 'wife,' Cassandra pulled Sadie into her arms, shared one more kiss, and just lingered. To both of the two that she believed were listening closest, she said, "Thank you for everything. I love you.

-000-

Author's note: I am anticipating writing a lengthy epilogue and a closing reflection. But, six years later, in its most basic form, Da Pacem Domine is finally finished.