Patricia Heathering Magnus and Doctor George Magnus were blessed with twin girls in the early morning of the 27th of August 1850. Helen and Amanda were born thirteen minutes apart, both blue eyed wispy blondes. Only the older would keep the blonde hair of their mother, the younger's would darken to auburn waves.

Despite being extremely similar in appearance, the sisters had vastly different interests. Where young Helen would be exploring with her microscope and questioning her father's research; Amanda was more conservative and creative, settling into the traditional role of a young Victorian woman. Helen was ambitious, searching for knowledge and answers wherever she could find them. Amanda was more whimsical, kind-hearted and open. Despite the differences, the two developed a balanced friendship and understanding as the years passed.

While Helen was auditing classes at Oxford, Amanda married an American and moved to the States in 1872. The sisters stayed in contact by letter over the years and Helen visited more than a couple times in the decades that followed their separation. They were as close as two sisters could be across continents in the nineteenth century.

Amanda had two children in quick succession, Oliver and Samantha, in the mid 1870s. Her husband, Benjamin Carter, was a banker and the family finally settled in San Francisco, California. Helen experienced her own heartbreak and instead of carrying the child she'd conceived with John Druitt, froze the embryo until the right time came. She never married and dove into carrying on their father's research and legacy.

But 1895, the year the sisters turned 45, was the year that everything changed. Amanda grew ill over the summer. A previously undetected cancer spread like wildfire through her body, bringing her from active and healthy to on death's door in just three months.

And it was at that time that her sister came for a visit, for it would be their last.

Doctor Helen Magnus stepped off of the train into the moderate San Franciscan summer. Her heart was heavy and her body worn from the week and a half spent traveling. The cab took her to the Pacific Heights district and her sister's small mansion home. It was a beautiful day and she turned her face towards the California sunshine, bright and full of life. So contrary to what she'd find inside.

Aside from servants, Amanda was living alone at this point, an accident claimed her husband only two years prior. Her two children were both in their early twenties, married, and living hours from the home they grew up in. Helen was let into the house by the maid, who took her bags and directed her to where Amanda was resting.

After a quiet few minutes of conversation with the nurse who'd been caring for Amanda, Helen had the full prognosis of her sister's declining health. The very thought of the unseen and unstoppable ravishing her sister's body was enough to make her chest clench. But when she walked in the room, she smiled softly at the sight.

Despite the weakness that her illness had brought, there was a light color to Amanda's cheeks and a thoughtful smile on her face. Amanda was tucked in under a blanket on her bed, a book not too far away. The younger twin lit up when Helen walked in the room, tears of joy filling her eyes. "Oh Helen…I'm so glad you came."

Helen shed her outer coat and heeled boots, and glided over to press a kiss to her sister's forehead. "I'm here, Mandy. Always."

The two women spent over an hour catching up. Helen shared what little she would let her sister know of her work, but she mostly just listened. Amanda radiated a covetable peace as she discussed the visits she'd had from her children, the books she'd been reading, and the trip they'd taken to the beach to watch the sunset over the Pacific Ocean.

Amanda's expression was serene but slightly hesitant as she mentioned something else that had happened to her most recently, her assimilated American accent soft as she spoke. "I had an unexpected visitor as well. It's…it's an angel. A real angel. She…she needs me."

"An angel?" Helen reached to grasp her sister's hand again, concerned that her sister was closer to dying than she anticipated. "There is no such thing, Mandy, only stories. And frankly unbelievable ones at that."

"Don't be so skeptical, Helen. She's real." Amanda teased with a soft smile and a squeeze of her hands. "An angel, a powerful being, like so many of your…creatures."

Helen interrupted to correct her. "Abnormals."

"Yes, of course. But there is so much your science cannot explain. I think…I think this is real." Amanda insisted quietly. "She needs my help, she needs me. My body as a vessel to dwell in."

"What?" Thin brows shot up. "Needs your body? Mandy, you can't-"

"You know I'm going to die. Whether it's tomorrow, or whether it's twenty years from now." Amanda reached a hand to touch her sister's face. Identical brilliant blue eyes met. "I'm not you, Helen. I'm not going to live forever. My children are my legacy. This... this could be so much more than what's left for me."

Helen sniffed back tears, willing herself not to cry in the face of losing her sister and oldest friend. She'd done well this far, but one couldn't hold it back forever. "Your place is here. I've been working with some experimental treatments with James, it's possible I can halt the cancer-"

"No." Amanda said, unable to stop her own tears at this point. "Helen please, she needs my help. It's a very important mission. This is my choice."

"How long? How long is this for?"

Amanda paused, concerned not for herself, but for her sister. "Years, centuries perhaps. She said the plans were sliding into place. She needs a vessel to bring them to fruition on Earth. I, I know I won't be back. I know this is it."

Helen's jaw clenched. "She? Who is this angel anyways?"

"Her name is Naomi…like the Bible stories Mother told us. Naomi, a mother who'd do anything for her children. A mother and widow who lost and gained."

Helen's expression fell and she shoved the memories away that threatened to resurface. Memories of John, memories of her sister and her children, memories of those children losing their mother. Her next question was simple. "Why you?"

"She says it's a familial trait, passed down through generations. She says I am worthy, and she'll ensure my family's protection. I need to do this, Helen. And you won't convince me otherwise. Please…just stay with me. That's all I ask."

There was a tense moment, but Helen gave in and bowed her head to cry. Their hands were joined firmly, but her voice shaky when she spoke. "I'll stay with you. I promise. Till the end."

Naomi came later that night, like a whisper in the darkness at first. A whisper that would turn into a roar. Helen waited as a bright light descended and covered Amanda's bed. She watched until the light was too intense to behold and the room filled with a heat that could have been from a wildfire. Holy, all-encompassing, supernatural, and infinite. Whatever this angel was…there was power here. More power than Helen had ever felt or witnessed before.

By the time the light dimmed and Naomi took over Amanda's body, Helen had collapsed in a chair, nearly sobbing. Her shoulders shook as the realization of losing her sister took hold of her. Amanda was no more.

Standing from the bed, the angel breathed in and out, the gold glow in her eyes finally dimming. She turned to the other twin, tilting her head slightly to regard her. "Your sister will have peace. Her children and her children's children will be safe. You have my word."

Her voice was too different, but at the same time, horribly familiar. And her words didn't give the comfort it probably was meant to. Helen opened her eyes, wiping away tears with her sleeves. She saw her sister, a woman who had been both her childhood friend and enemy, standing as she hadn't in a week. Eyes sharp and not filled with pain. But it wasn't Amanda, the spark and twinkle in her eye was gone. Replaced with an oldness, a divineness that couldn't be explained. Helen didn't speak, she wasn't sure she could at this point.

Naomi vanished with a flutter of unseen feathers. Her last words echoing in Helen's head: "Good-bye, Helen Magnus. Until we meet again."

Helen was left alone, as she would always be.