A Moonlight Dance

by FonHibari

Summary:

John Constantine was tracking unusual spikes of Death Magic all around the world, but every bloody time, he was too late to catch anyone. After two months of trying to track them down on his own, he then, against his better judgment, asked for help from Zatanna. After another month of no progress and Zatanna being needed elsewhere, he finally threw in the metaphorical towel and asked for help from the Big Bat himself.

Now, he’s in a plane, flying to who knows where, with the Big Bat and the rest of his colony. Deep inside, Constantine knew this was going to be trouble.
---
Danny was living a good life. His parents still love him, even if it took a while for him and Jazz to convince them there was nothing to fix, his grades were slowly being brought back up, and he came to peace with the fact that he was going to be the Ghost King.

Since he was still young , he was only the heir and, therefore, had fewer duties to do.

As the heir, Danny's favourite duty is helping lost souls move on to the afterlife.

The big guy, a revenant with guns and thighs who arrived during the send-off, looking at Danny like he hung the moon and stars, is a nice bonus.

Notes:

So, my usual update schedule is the first of every month. However, due to life happening, I'm publishing this chapter now instead of August 1st.

Next update will be on Sept 1.

If this looks familiar in any way, I made a small post of this on Tumblr when Ao3 was down a few months ago. So, this is the full fic.

Chapter 1: John Constantine

John Constantine wanted out. He didn’t like being here, he didn’t like the company, and he really, really, didn’t like not being about to smoke. 

“Constantine.”

John bit back a groan as he reluctantly, and with more force than was probably necessary, pushed his cigarette box back into his coat pocket. 

“Bloody hell, Bats. Do you have eyes on your back or something?”

“Are we getting close?” Batman asked, ignoring John completely, focusing on flying the Batplane through the cloudy sky.

“Give me a sec, mate. This shit is delicate.” 

With a sigh, John concentrated. There have been spikes of Death Magic popping up all over the world. So far, no one is dead, and there have been no clear signs of the dead rising, but a ritual of sorts did happen. He could see it in what little footprints were there, the faint smell of the dead, and the magic in the air, but he couldn’t find anything in his research that matched.

“Those mountains, over there.” John pointed. 

Batman grunted in acknowledgement and slowed the plane down, shifting it to stealth mode. As Batman flew the plane, John looked around. It wasn’t like there was anything else he could do except wait. 

With him and the Big Bat, there were Nightwing, Red Hood, Black Bat, Red Robin, Spoiler, and Robin. John knew that Batman only came because Death Magic wasn’t something Mr. Broody wanted just happening all over the world. However, his gaggle of kids were in earshot and insisted on coming along because it might be serious, and they wanted to come as backup. Arguing that the rest of the bat colony (and, seriously, how many kids did Mr. “I work alone” have?!) could handle Gotham. 

Well, Robin insisted because he was Robin, Batman’s partner. Nightwing came because he didn’t want to leave a possibly dangerous mission to only Batman and Robin. Red Robin came because he argued that, of all the bats, he was the most experienced travelling the world since he did it a bunch while searching for Batman when he was trapped in the timestream. 

Something John decided not to question because that was not his problem and will stay not his problem. 

Red Hood decided to come along to spite Batman, and Spoiler came along because she didn’t want to be left behind. John didn’t even know Black Bat was also part of this mission until ten minutes into the flight, when she popped up behind him.

Batman should really invest in a bell for that one. 

“We reached the top of the mountain,” Red Robin commented from his co-pilot seat, “I see a possible person of interest. There seems to be a long dried-up lake with a figure at the center, they have their hands together, kind of looking like they are, possibly, giving a prayer or something similar.”

“There are a few close-up rocks over there,” Nightwing pointed as Batman flew towards them, “Good enough for cover, and close enough for us to get to the person quickly.”

Soon, they landed and cautiously walked to the lake edge, wanting to observe and analyze the situation before they confronted the person. John knew that, whoever the person was, they were responsible for the Death Magic. Now that he had a closer look, there was not much malicious intent coming from the figure, but it was still Death Magic, and that should be taken with the highest level of caution. 

Though he was not a detective, John could build a simple profile of a person of interest. The person looked androgynous and had a swimmer's build. They were dressed in what looked to be thin, flowy robes that were white with light green accents. They also had what looked to be a silk shawl that seemed to be floating and what seemed to be a simple, silver circlet with a brilliant green gem at its center.

Was any of the clothing important? They could be, if only ceremonial. But they seemed important in some way. 

“Slightly tense. Important. Determined. Open. Believe they are in the right.” Black Bat muttered.

“So, not a bad person, or at least they don’t think they are in the wrong. Should we go and see what’s up?” Spoiler asked, slowly getting up, as if to walk over.

However, before anyone could say anything, the person got up and started dancing, as if in a waltz with someone they couldn't see. John has seen many rituals, some with dances, but none with something as mundane as a waltz. 

“No. We don’t know what’s going on with the ritual they’re doing. I saw we wait until it’s over and confront the person when they’re done.” John muttered, chewing on the cigarette he pulled out, searching for his lighter, "Nothing bad happened after the ritual before, so it's safe to assume it won't start now. Probably."

Slowly, dim balls of light started to appear around the person. Most of the lights were either green or blue, but every colour imaginable was there. Purples, reds, oranges, yellows, and some even were mixes of the colours. It was mesmerizing. 

There was a huff, and John looked to the side and saw that Black Bat had stolen his lighter and handed it over to Batman. The brat. 

Before John could say anything, there was a shift in the air, and the kids made a silent intake of air. John looked back and saw that the balls of light transformed into people-like forms. Ghosts, John’s mind supplied. Hundreds of them. Suddenly, there was a faint sound of classical music, and it seemed to be a sign to the ghosts and the person to start moving. The person started dancing and some of the ghosts took their hand and danced with them, only to let go and give the person in favour of a new partner.

If the ghosts never danced with the person, or if they gave the person to a new partner, they started floating upwards. Following the ghosts, John sore inwardly as he gazed up and saw that the cloudy sky now had a single perfect circle that allowed the spirits to fly into a soft green glowing light in the sky.

“Holy shit.” Red Hood muttered, eyes glued to the sky, “Holy. Shit.”

Holy shit was right. The light is green, Lazarus green. But it was softer. Much softer. 

“Ah.” John said, finally realizing what was happening. 

The person wasn’t using Death Magic in the more common ways, more like they were guiding spirits to the afterlife. Still Death Magic but not the malicious kind, some may even argue it could be seen as, sort of, benevolent. 

John relaxed, but then he heard a familiar voice, and his eyes widened. 

“John?”

Moving faster than John has ever moved before, he spun around and stared with his eyes wide. Blue eyes met green eyes, but even though the eye colour was wrong, the hair colour was wrong, the entire colour palette was wrong, but there was no way John would ever mistake her.

“... Cheryl?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

John moved away from the nosy bats. He teleported a good distance away, but still within the line of sight of them, because they’d raise hell that John does not want to deal with. Not now.

“Cheryl?” John repeated, looking at his dead sister.

The sister who did her best to raise him. The sister he failed to save. The sister whom he doomed to hell because of his stupid demon deals he wasn’t smart enough to wiggle out of. 

Cheryl didn’t age a day since she died. 

Cheryl’s eyes softened in a familiar way, “John. I see you finally made some friends. I hope you’re doing better.”

There were no tears in John’s eyes; the air was just dusty. John wasn’t an idiot; all his spells were telling him that this was Cheryl. 

“I’m sorry… I couldn’t- I’m sorry…” John apologized before taking a deep breath, “How are you here?”

“I made peace with it.” Cherly said simply before an unfamiliar glint appeared in Cheryl’s eyes, “As for how I’m here, well, I am your sister after all.”

That… that had a lot of implications. Implications that John didn’t have the emotional or mental capacity to deal with. 

“I got out of hell, dragging Tony with me, haunting our old house a little-”

“That was you?!”

“Don’t interrupt. Found my son, Finn, didn’t stay outside of making sure he was living alright. Visited Gemma to watch over her for a bit, and then I spent some time following you around.” Cheryl said before ruffling John’s hair, “I still worry, but I’m glad you have people you can trust to help you.”

“Is that why you’re here now? Watching over me? Are you… are you ready to move on now?” John asked, gesturing to the still dancing person.

“Yes. Tony left last time. I was just waiting to say goodbye to you, one last time, before I left. I also want you to know that I forgive you. Your actions caused a lot of grief for me, but I had time, and while I cannot say it is okay, I can say I forgive you. I’m happy you’re dealing with demons more carefully, even if I’m not happy you’re still dealing with them, and I’m happy you made friends who can help you. I’m happy you’re in a better place now.”

“I-”

“I love you, John. Take care of yourself. Don’t mess around too much and listen to your friends when they tell you you’re being stupid.”

Cheryl started floating away, toward the other dancing ghosts. John tried to grab her, for why he doesn’t exactly know, but his hand slipped through her body. All he could do was watch as his sister made her way to the person dancing in the center of the dried lake.

He watched as she laughed, taking the hand of the person and letting the person lead the waltz, dancing happily to ever-changing classical music that seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. 

She was glowing. She looked happier dead than she ever did alive with him. John shook himself out of his thoughts and shoved a new cigarette into his mouth. He spat his old one out when Cheryl appeared. He lit this one with magic and took a deep breath before slowly breathing out the smoke. 

She let go of his hand and seemed to rush to get to the afterlife, possibly where Tony was waiting for her. She gave him one last look, one last smile, one last wave, before flying into the sky where he couldn’t see her. 

John didn’t know how long he stood there, just watching. All he knew was he finished his cigarette during the moments he spent staring off into space. Against his better judgment, he knew he should be getting back to the bats before they decided to hunt him down. John turned towards where he had left the bats.

… No.

John turned back to watch the dance. The bats were dealing with their own ghosts, and John barely had enough emotional capacity to deal with his own ghost, so he really didn’t want to get involved with whatever’s happening now.

The dance seemed to last for four hours, starting at midnight and ending at four am, dancing through both witching hours, the times of day when the supernatural beings are most powerful. This was probably to help with the send-off.

Nearing the end of the dance, where the person seemed to be dancing alone for a while, Red Hood suddenly appeared and took their hand. John almost choked on his cigarette. 

Was the fool trying to move on?

John watched as Red Hood took the lead, and John didn’t even want to know what Daddy Bats was thinking as his most estranged child danced with a magical stranger. Soon, all the ghosts entered the light, and the music ended, with Red Hood and the figure standing still in the center of the dried lake. 

A dried lake’s floor was suspiciously smooth, like an actual dance floor. 

John saw movement and realized that the rest of the bats were descending down on their wayward member. He guessed he had to go down there too. 

He really wasn’t paid enough to deal with this shit. Hell, he wasn’t even being paid at all.

Notes:

SAME AS THE BEGINNING NOTE. IN CASE YOU DIDN'T READ THE ABOVE NOTE:

So, my usual update schedule is the first of every month. However, due to life happening, I'm publishing this chapter now instead of August 1st.

Next update will be on Sept 1.

If this looks familiar in any way, I made a small post of this on Tumblr when Ao3 was down a few months ago. So, this is the full fic.

Chapter 2: Bruce Wayne

Notes:

Thank you, everyone, for your patience! This story will continue with my usual once-a-month update schedule. Stay tune for the next update on Oct 1!

Without further ado, enjoy!

Bruce had thought he knew what he was getting into when Constantine came to him for help. He thought he had gone through all the precautions that came with dealing with magic and taking his kids to deal with magic. 

He even ran the kids through all the backup plans regarding Constantine just last week, so it should all still be fresh in everyone’s memory.

However, nothing, and he meant nothing, prepared him for this. 

He was worried about the ritual at first, even if it seemed to just be a way to send spirits to the afterlife for rest, you could never be too careful, but with Cassandra’s reassurance and Constantine’s insistence, he agreed to wait until the ritual was over before they confronted the suspicious person of interest. 

Then, a Lazarus green portal opened up in the sky. At least now Bruce has proof that the Lazarus pits have something to do with the afterlife and Death Magic. He already knew this, but it was nice to have extra proof. 

The portal was concerning, but it seemed to just be a path for the spirits to pass on, so Bruce just noted it down as another question to ask the dancer. 

Constantine leaving the group to talk to his deceased sister was not part of the plan or anything Bruce planned for. It was Constantine’s sister, Bruce saw the pictures and the death certificate, and he knew Constantine well enough to know he wouldn’t follow a figure that looked like his sister unless it was his sister.

Constantine wouldn’t have survived all his deals if he were that easy to fool. 

“Well, we lost... ish?... our resident magic expert. What now?” Stephanie asked. 

Everyone was respectfully looking away from Constantine, just keeping him in their periphery to make sure he was safe while also giving him the privacy to talk to his sister. 

Bruce took a deep breath, “We proceed as planned. Keep an eye on the target and Constantine.”

“So far, it seems fine. Just a kind of send-off for the deceased.” Tim said, monitoring the magic levels using a device that Constantine lent them.

Bruce was sure that Tim had already scanned the device and was planning to try to replicate it on his own time at a later date. Here's to hoping it won't require magic for it to work like the last device Tim tried to make. At least this time, Tim might plan enough to ask Raven or Zatana instead of a defeated Karion. In Tim's defence, he was running on an hour of sleep for that week, but it was still very ill-advised.

“If this really is nothing, maybe we should invite this guy to do a ritual near Gothem, there’s probably a lot of ghosts there that deserve to pass on.” Dick said, nodding to himself, “I think it would be nice, at least they get a peaceful passage to the next life.”

At his eldest’s words, Bruce couldn’t help but mentally agree. The ghosts seemed happy, despite being dead, and they seemed to be eager to fly into the green portal to pass on. So, at least in death, they could give those whom they failed to save a comfortable passing to the next life.

If what the figure is doing is what Constantine says the figure is doing. 

“Hey…” Stephanie spoke up with a little hesitation, “Do you think we’ll also see people we know, like Constantine did?”

There was silence. 

“We’ll figure it out when it comes to it.” Jason said gruffly, “Let’s just keep watching.”

As they watched, Bruce felt a hand on his shoulders. Immediately, his training kicked in, and he tried to grab the hand and turn around to face whoever grabbed him. He froze. His hand passed through the hand that grabbed him, and when he turned, he saw the faces of people he never thought he’d see ever again.

At least, not without their faces frozen in fear and pain. 

His father, Thomas Wayne, and next to him, with her hands holding a very familiar purse, his mother, Martha Wayne. 

His kids slowly backed away. From the corner of his eye, he could see Tim directing his kids to spread out. 

“Father… mother…” Bruce said quietly and slowly, almost reverently. 

His voice was weak, hesitant, and hopeful. Very unlike the Batman voice he normally uses. Different from the Brucie voice he uses at galas. Also different from the Bruce voice he uses to reassure his kids. 

This was the voice of a man—who was once just a boy who had to grow up too fast—who desperately, restlessly, wished to see his parents again. Whole, safe, and healthy. 

Their colours were inverted, his father’s hair was while, while his mother’s was still blond but glowing greens. Their eyes were green, they were floating and transparent, and their skin was tinted blue. They may not look healthy in the human sense, but they seemed happy and a far cry from that terrible night.

“Bruce, we’ve been watching you.” His father said with a small smile, "We're proud of you, son."

His father reached over and patted his head like he used to. Bruce felt a little embarrassed. Here he was, a 42-year-old man, getting his head patted by his father like he was an 8-year-old child again. However, the majority of him basked in the familiar feeling of his father once more. Even if he couldn’t feel the weight of his father’s hand, the presence is there all the same.

A feeling he never thought he’d ever feel again. 

“We worry about you; the work you’re doing is very dangerous, and you should think about doing less physical work in a few years. You are getting on in age.” His mother said with a twinkle in his eye, as if telling him a joke.

“He may be, but he’s still smart, like his old man; he’ll figure things out.” His father laughed.

“He may be as smart as you, but his youthful appearance is all me. If he were like you, he’d probably already be gray and wrinkly.” His mother teased, laughing as his father gave her a fake look of shock. 

An old game. A game they loved to play when they were alive. A game that younger Bruce was embarrassed about, but now he could appreciate it for what it was. Love. A deep love and the fun of teasing one another. 

Bruce opened his mouth, but then he closed it. For so many years, he wished to speak to his parents, to tell them what he did, to ask them if he did them proud, to apologize for not being able to save them. However, right now, when they were in front of him, no words could escape his mouth. 

His mother looked at him again, her eyes softened, and her smile went from teasing to warm. Slowly, ever so slowly, she floated towards him and gave him a hug. Like his father’s head pat, his mother’s hug was so familiar but very different in a physical sense. No weight to the hug, but the love, her love, is there all the same. Warm, loving, and full of comfort. Like Bruce was safe as long as he was in her arms.

“Shhh, no need to cry. You don’t need to say anything either. We love you, we’re proud of you. We worry about you, but we are so incredibly proud of you. Our little super hero.” 

Finally, Bruce found his voice, “Mother… are you and father happy?”

The one thing Bruce wanted to know, above all else, was if his parents were happy in the afterlife. He wanted to know if his parents were happy. Even if it would hurt if they were happy without him, it would hurt more if they were upset because they deserve to be happy in death, like they were in life. 

“Yes.” His mother answered with a smile, releasing Bruce from her hug and leaning against his father, “We are happy.”

“We watched you grow up,” His father said, wrapping an arm around his mother’s shoulders, letting her hold his hand with hers, “we saw you struggle, we saw you get up and try again. We watched you grow from a hurt little boy to a rage-filled teen, to a young father, to a grief-filled man, and a man trying his best for his kids and city.”

“You gave us a heart attack a few times," his mother added, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, "and your paranoia exasperates us sometimes, even if we understand it, but you’ve grown up well. We’re sad we weren’t apart of that growth, but you’ve grown up well.” His mother said with a sad smile and tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry for worrying you…” 

Later, Bruce will probably feel mortified knowing that his parents watched over him for all those years. Even more mortified when he thinks about those times he forgot to close his comms, and his kids heard him and Cat Women. Did his parents witness that? 

Then, Bruce will think about all his mistakes, all his failures, and all the people he didn’t manage to save. Everything that keeps him up at night. How about his failure to save Jason? How about all those times he messed up? Did they witness those, too? Despite all that, they still love him enough to watch over him?

“Do you want to officially meet your grandkids?” Bruce asked after a moment of silence.

Immediately, the faces of his parents brightened. Bruce was about to call his kids over, but his father stopped him.

“They’re talking to their own ghosts, just describe them to us.” 

“Ah…” Bruce said, fighting the urge to look around to see who his kids were talking to, but he knew that would be a gross overstep in privacy, even by his standards, “Which one first?”

“Oldest to youngest? You can never go wrong with a classic.” His mother suggested.

With a small smile, Bruce started talking, “Dick Grayson was the first. I saw so much of myself in him - the pain, the loss - but where I turned inward and fought for vengeance, he found light. Joy. Hope. A future. He became Robin to honour his parents and eventually grew beyond trying to avenge them. And when he left to lead on his own, as Nightwing, I was proud. Still am. Even if he left at first because we fought, we made up in the end. He taught me how to be a father, even if I didn’t realize it at the time.

“Jason... I failed him. Of all my failures as a father, I failed him the most. He was angry, reckless - but underneath, he was just a kid with a heart of gold who never got a real chance at life. A kid who believed that Robin was magic and that, by becoming Robin, he became magic. I brought him into this world, the world of the cape and cowl, and it got him killed.... And when he came back... he wasn’t the same. I... I didn’t make it better; in fact, on some days, I wonder if I made it worse, and I regret it every day. He’s walking a darker path now, but he’s still my son. He stopped killing people now, and our relationship is slowly getting better, but I just wish I knew how to reach out to him better. To apologize for all my failures, and hope... Hope I can make things right. I would spend all my life if that's what he needs. 

"Tim found me. Figured out who I was when he was barely a teenager. He believed Batman needed a Robin - not just for the mission, but to stay human. He’s the most brilliant of them, both methodical and kind. He chose this life not out of tragedy, but conviction. I never asked him to step into the shadows. He walked in on his own - and earned his place. Though I am ashamed that I made him feel like it was necessary. He could have become anything; he is just that brilliant, but he chose this, and he chose to stay despite all my mistakes. 

"Cassamdra didn’t grow up with words. She was trained to read body language, to kill - and then she chose peace. She’s quiet, but her heart is... immense. She carries guilt that was never hers to bear - she was just a child who didn't know better - but she protects people now, with everything she has. She’s become something beautiful from something so broken, and she’s still growing to this day. I’m in awe of her strength.

"Stephanie’s relentless. Tenacious. And slightly reckless. She wasn’t supposed to be part of this world - she forced her way into it. First as Spoiler, to stop her father, then as the first female Robin, and Batgirl too. Now she’s back to Spoiler. She’s made mistakes, sure, but haven’t we all? What matters is that she keeps getting up. She has this spark, this sense of justice that’s raw and real. She reminds me that not everything has to be grim. It can be a chaotic spark of pure joy.

"Finally, Damian, my biological son. I didn’t know about him until he was ten. He... he was trained by assassins, raised to be a weapon... and yet, he’s trying to be better. And I know he can be better. It’s hard for him - discipline comes easy, compassion doesn’t. But he’s learning. I see glimmers of the man he could become, especially with his interactions with his pets and later with some of his siblings after a lot of work. He’s arrogant, stubborn - and brilliant. And I love him, even when I don’t know how to show it."

His mother laughed, “You need to be better at communicating your feelings, you never know how to show it.”

“You’re right.” Bruce smiled.

“You love them so much, don’t you?” His mother asked, kissing his father’s cheek.

“It shows, we’ve seen it and we’re proud of you.” His father said proudly, before looking at the sky, “Ah, it’s time for us to go.”

“Now?” Bruce asked, heartbroken.

“Yes, it’s time for us to go. We’ve watched you long enough.” His mother said, before giving him a cheeky smile, “Though, I wish I could have seen you get actually married without the bride running away with the ring.”

His mother smiled at him, gave a soft kiss on Bruce's cheeks and moved to make way for his father. His father gave him a firm one-arm hug before walking over to his mother. Bruce watched as his father bowed and reached for his mother’s hand. 

“Would the fair lady indulge this old man in a dance?” His father asked with a teasing grin, kissing her hand.

“Of course.”

Bruce watched as his parents danced into the sky, laughing in each other's arms as they disappeared into the green portal above. He’ll stand there until the ritual is over, keeping an eye on his son as he dances with the figure. Normally, he would be worried, but right now, he feels calmer than he has in years. He was still worried, but… Jason looks happy.

And that’s all that matters.