Richard Grayson, in his Red Robin costume but the hood thrown back, and his fiancee, Karen Starr, aka Power Girl, were updating the Batcave's security software. They had been working in silence for the past half hour or so, and were shocked out of their trances by the soft voice of their butler, Alfred Beagle. Alfred was normally hale, hearty and self-assured - his current subdued tone was almost more shocking than the sudden noise.

"Please excuse me for interrupting your work, Master Richard, Ms. Karen, but I believe we have a visitor..." What could cause that quiver in his voice? Who could enter the Batcave without Karen hearing? Dick raised his head and was absolutely stunned to see the Spectre.

"Holy avngmphe smbheit, bmphmph!" he exclaimed. Karen's hand choked off the later part of his exclamation. Dick couldn't recall a past Batcave visit by the Spectre that had not heralded some emergency. Drat, they were hoping for a quiet evening.

"Greetings, my earthly friends!" Even when expressing a warm emotion such as friendship, there was nothing warm about the Spectre's voice. Colder than the depths of space, colder even than death itself - no one who heard that voice could doubt that this was the incarnation of the Spirit of Vengeance! And yet, Dick could hear something different in that voice this time. In any other being, in any other voice, Dick might have thought it was diffidence... but from the Spectre?

Alfred, the consummate Gentleman's Gentleman, was the first to speak. "Please excuse me, all; I will be back shortly with refreshments. I beg your pardon, Sir" and he turned to the Spectre "but we were not expecting guests this evening. Your pleasure, sir?"

This was the first time in his long existence that the Spectre had been offered refreshments. He didn't need anything, of course, and he had no idea how to respond. A quick search through Jim Corrigan's mind revealed an answer. "Thank you, Alfred. Could I trouble you for a Guinness Stout?"

"Very good sir, an excellent choice. My preferred tipple as well. Master Richard? Ms. Karen?"

"Make it 3 Stouts, Alfred, and one for yourself. Thanks." Dick had finally found his tongue again. As Alfred bustled away, he turned to the Spectre, but didn't put out his hand - nobody shook hands with the Spectre! "Good evening, Spectre. What brings you by this evening? Nothing fatal, I hope!" The attempted joke fell flat.

"Actually, I just... " he hesitated for a second "dropped by to..." he hesitated a little longer, almost as if searching for a word. "chat... If you have the time, that is?" Dick and Karen were astounded. The Spirit of Vengeance, one of the most powerful beings in the universe, dropping by to chat?

"We've plenty of time, Spectre!" Karen spoke up cheerfully. Being a nigh-omnipotent being herself, she was somewhat less awed by the presence of the Spectre than her fiance, even though Dick had a much longer acquaintance. "What's on your mind?"

Alfred was back, with a tray of beer and snacks. They moved into the Batcave library, settling into the comfortable overstuffed chairs there. Alfred fussed with the fireplace.

"May I help you, Alfred?" the Spectre asked. Confused, Alfred stood up and the Spectre twitched a finger. Several well-seasoned logs appeared, and they spontaneously ignited, producing a perfect fire.

"Very good, sir." Alfred sat down and picked up his beer, as he wanted to hear this story too.

"You are aware that I am the Spirit of Vengeance, but perhaps you have not given much thought to what that means." And in fact, none of them had. "I am among the oldest of beings in this universe - older than life on this planet - older, in fact, than this planet itself. I never had a 'living' form, such as you now wear - I was created whole, much as you see me now."

"For most of my existence I have been an independent entity. For ages - ages far longer than your young species has even existed, perhaps longer than your species will survive, the Spirit of Vengeance had no mission _but_ Vengeance. Vengeance I was created to serve, and Vengeance I served. When a being, any being, no matter how great or small, cries 'Vengeance' - no matter where in the universe, in voice loud or small, I hear that cry. And what greater purpose could my existence have, than to answer each and all? And so I did, for aeons beyond your imagining."

"Yet, with the mind my Creator gave to me, I began to wonder. I knew my purpose, and yet what did I accomplish? Yes, I helped many achieve Vengeance - but rarely did I help them achieve satisfaction. And the successful achievement of Vengeance is rarely an ending. It is most often a trigger for yet another cycle of vengeance, followed by another and yet another. Is there no mission for the Spirit of Vengeance other than sustaining Vengeance itself? Is the universe a better place because I faithfully carry out my ancient mission?"

"My Creator has sensed my growing discontent, my yearning to understand more, and has bound me to Jim Corrigan, that I may experience life as a human, living being, and perhaps gain a greater perspective. I have learned much during this binding - and not only from Jim Corrigan, but also through my observations of the life and growth of Bruce Wayne."

He paused for a second to let this sink in. Alfred in particular picked up on this very quickly; he had, after all, been Bruce Wayne's batman throughout Bruce's life - and he himself had often pondered the lessons of Bruce's life. "Ahh, the human avatar of the Spirit of Vengeance! Yes, indeed - very perceptive, sir. And his evolution, his growth, you might say, into a Champion of Justice instead. Very good, sir, very good!"

"Thank you, Alfred." There was no irony in his voice - he truly appreciated Alfred's encouragement!

"If I may, sir, I had occasionally wondered why you selected Detective Corrigan, when Master Bruce seemed to be such a better fit. I understand, now - Detective Corrigan was selected for you, and not Bruce, because binding you to Bruce would have guaranteed that neither of you had the opportunity to grow."

"Ah, yes, Alfred Beagle, you have touched on the heart of it."

Dick and Alfred rarely missed Bruce as much as they did at this instant. And yet, they had never before been as much at peace with his passing as they were. To hear this observation coming from the Spectre validated all Bruce had been, to them and the world, to his extended family and himself and his greater family - humanity.

Bruce had been a truly great man - an example of the best of humanity. Yet he had begun down a wrong path, for the path of Vengeance is not the path to greatness. And he had learned, and he had found and followed a better path. And left markers along the way so that others could follow him, if they chose.

The Spectre seemed to sense their feelings. He paused, and took a sip of his beer. This had to be the single most astounding thing Dick had ever seen in his entire life! He was puzzled, though - he couldn't figure out quite what this being was doing here...

"I beg your pardon, my friends, for running on so - it is most unlike me." The Spectre paused again, almost... almost as if he was working up his courage for what was to come. "Very well. Recently I confronted a dilemma - a conundrum such as none I had faced before. And I contemplated and examined the problem from every point of view and with all the powers and experience at my disposal. And I was still unable to discover a solution. So I decided that I needed to do what I had never done before - ask my mortal acquaintances for advice."

"Holy blmpsmph bmphmph!" Once again, Karen got her hand over his mouth before he could complete that phrase. Beyond that, he was completely at a loss for words.

"What Dick was going to say, Spectre, is how incredibly honored we are that you came to us. I'm not really sure that we have the cosmic breadth of view that you need, but we'll give you the..."

The Spectre held up his hand, and she stopped. When he spoke again, his voice was unchanged - and yet, the three later swore there had been just the slightest tinge of amusement hidden away in those words.

"I beg your pardon for inadvertently misleading you. I've already obtained the advice I needed. As you have invited Jim Corrigan to your wedding, I will be unable to attend. So I would like to present you with your wedding present in advance. I hope you will find it appropriate." He opened his hand, which had previously been empty, and displayed a package, perhaps the size of a laptop computer (1987, remember!), exquisitely wrapped in something glittery and iridescent. "In fact, those I consulted with are also unable to attend, and they asked if they might 'go in' on this gift with me."

Karen was on her feet, a big smile on her face. "Why, thank you, Spectre. May we open it now?"

"I am unaware of the etiquette involved. Still, it would... please me, if you would."

The wrapping wasn't paper - it was more like solid magic. Inside was a framed photograph. The frame was hand carved, the wood incredibly beautiful, the craftsmanship extraordinary. Still, it was the photograph that took their breaths away!

It was a simple arrangement - 5 people sitting around a highly-polished wooden round table, with a crystal ball in the middle of the table. Set in a small library. But no one was looking at the setting.

Seated around this table, impossibly, were John and Mary Grayson, Bruce Wayne, and Zor-L and Allura. The three humans were too stunned to comment.

"Is something wrong, my friends? I apologize for the quality of the picture - I have no apparent talent for photography, but those pictured assured me it was more than adequate."

At the bottom was an inscription, "Our blessings forever!", 5 signatures and a Post Script in Kryptonese.

Blinking back tears, Dick responded. "It's much more than adequate, Spectre - it's magnificent."

"My best wishes, my friends. I must take my leave, Jim Corrigan is suddenly needed to forward the cause of Justice." And he was gone.

Karen examined the picture more closely, and laughed as she read the post script.

"What's so funny?" Dick demanded. "Who's it from?"

"It's from my mother, a Kryptonian quip. There's no exact translation, but it has the flavor of "It's about damn time!'"