Author's note: I recently watched Season 8, and I might be the only one who absolutely loved Naomi as a character. So here, have the inevitable product of my minor character obsession. I actually really like how this came out. Enjoy!
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. And God spoke the Word and left.
And all the angels had was the Word, and they had to make sure it was fulfilled, because it was God's.
They had to keep to the plan, they had to watch over the humans and see it unfold. And the archangels were going to look after them all.
And she would help them so that everyone stayed in line.
She was a warrior, like the others, but her methods were different. She didn't fight, she didn't openly challenge those who endangered their father's vision. She was more subtle.
She could get into their minds, could make them forget their doubts, could turn them once more into the soldiers they had been born as and would always be.
Some would have considered her prideful, but she was not without her faults. She had prayed for forgiveness, hadn't left Heaven for a long time after what happened in Mesopotamia. She was still ashamed. She had been at earth too long, had human emotions allowed to corrupt her, and a demon –
She had been forgiven, she was sure. She had worked so long, so diligently. And she had to live with the memory of her sin forever; it was her punishment. She was the one angel who could not be rearranged.
Many passed her table. Most of them only needed one treatment; their doubts had never gone deep, they had never truly considered rebellion.
Others were more resilient, but she fixed them over time.
And then there was him.
Castiel, Angel of Thursday. Castiel, a good and honourable soldier. Castiel, who had doubts from the start and no matter what she did, she never could quench them completely.
They first time he showed that he had not been born right, that something was wrong, was at the time of the Flood. Until then, he had served well, had become leader of his garrison. Nothing but good was expected of him.
Everything was ready. Noah had built the arch. He and his family and the animals would live; all those who were wicked would be wiped from the face of the earth, so that it could be repopulated with those who were better suited or God's plan.
In the night before the Flood, a sound that hadn't been heard since God had left rang through Heaven.
An angel's cry of sorrow.
They hadn't anticipated this. All the angels were ready to watch the Flood leave earth fresh and new. Not one of them was grieving, should be grieving, for those who would be rightfully punished.
But one of them was, and his cries reverberated through Heaven.
It was Castiel.
She was surprised. He had never shown such behaviour before. There was no reason to think that he would again. He only needed a simple treatment.
She had those who worked under her collect him.
He followed them willingly. None of the normal soldiers knew what she did, exactly. It was safer that way.
"Naomi" he greeted her.
"Castiel" she answered. "Why were you crying?"
She was shocked at his reply.
"Some do not deserve to die. They have good souls; they work hard; they raise their children, look after the crops in their fields, feed the poor. They should not have to drown".
This was worse than doubt. This was close to open rebellion.
Arguing would be useless. He had to be fixed. So she did.
The next morning, he watched the Flood, neither his Grace nor voice telling of the thoughts he had harboured not long ago.
She thought she had done everything that was necessary. Relapse was rare. One treatment was usually enough.
Time passed.
All men committed sins, but none more than those who lived in Sodom or Gomorra. The cities had to be destroyed. Lot and his family would be saved, just like God's plan commanded.
Then the leader of one of the garrisons that were supposed to rain down fire on the towns stepped forward.
"Is there truly not one just men in either of these cities? Have we seen into every soul? Into those of the young children, who do not yet know sin?"
It was Castiel.
He was brought to her, and she went deeper than the last time, until she had wiped away all traces of dissatisfaction. He was a great leader, an admired soldier. He shouldn't have to carry around that burden with him. It was her responsibility that he didn't.
He served well until they tested Abraham's faith.
She didn't understand. Why did he talk to the Seraphs, ask them not to "bring pain to this pure soul"? The boy wouldn't be sacrificed. Every angel knew.
Something was wrong with him, very wrong indeed. If she could have entertained the possibility that there had been a mistake when he had been created – that he had not been made right without committing blasphemy, she would have been tempted to do so.
This was the first time she argued with him. Not in an attempt to change his mind; she knew how to do that without talking and would.
He was the one who started it.
The first two times, he had been silent, had squirmed under the needle, like the others, but hadn't said a word.
Now, he spoke to her, and she found herself answering because what she heard was incredible.
"Testing him will only bring him pain. Why? Why do we have to if his son isn't going to be sacrificed?"
"We have to know his faith his strong" she said, taking up the needle.
"We do" he insisted. "His soul shines so brightly with love for our father that it can be seen from Heaven".
She couldn't make him understand with words. She could make him understand with the needle.
She was starting to worry that despite her best efforts, doubts would continue to grow in him.
She was right.
The pharaoh wouldn't allow Moses' people to leave. Plagues were his and his people's punishment.
It was the night of the slaughter of the firstborns. Not a single angle had resisted the order, not even Castiel. She had been looking out for him, but he descended on the country just like their siblings.
She thought she had done well. She thought she had finally fixed him.
And then she heard the cry, a cry similar to the one she had heard before the Flood, but more desperate, urgent.
She immediately went to the house. Thankfully, the other angels were fulfilling their duty; they had been told not to listen to anything but orders during the night, and they obeyed.
Castiel was looking down at a small child who was sleeping peacefully.
"He's innocent" he said as soon as she appeared behind him.
"His master isn't".
Castiel turned around, his blade shining, and she realized that he was ready to fight her for this small, insignificant life.
She called for assistance and Castiel was brought to her office.
He thought his garrison had watched over Heaven that night. She always altered the memories of those she treated. She altered those of her subordinates too; no angel should be known to have undergone the procedure. It would only bring disquiet into their garrisons.
She remembered how he had looked at her when he had stood in front of the firstborn and knew she had to go deep this time, deeper than she had ever been. She could kill him in the process.
But she had to take the risk. It was better for a deserving soldier to be dead than to rebel.
This time he fought.
He screamed and trashed as he was strapped down on the table; he kept screaming as she drilled into his mind, finding every scrap, every rebellious thought, and dragged it out, destroyed it.
She was more than likely doing this at the cost of his initiative, but it was for a good cause.
At the end, he was silent and well.
And she thought she had finally done it.
During the millennia that followed, Castiel did what he was told. He was the exceptional soldier she had always known him to be. She was proud at a job well done.
There were a few moment when she was unsure – when Balthazar died in battle, when Anna fell of her own will, and Castiel's grief was strong, too strong for someone convinced of the rightfulness of God's plan – but he always found his way back without her having to do anything.
She thought she had succeeded.
She hadn't counted on the Righteous Man.
Putting Castiel in charge of the troupe who was responsible for rescuing Dean Winchester from Hell was an easy decision. He had fought many battles since he had last been treated, and barely anyone knew. She was not worried in the least.
They lost several angels, but Dean Winchester was saved; Castiel's cry of triumph could be heard by every single angel in existence.
Naomi knew the plan, of course, the plan only few outside of the archangels knew. She had to so she could look for it while she was rearranging minds. The moment she realized someone might have suspicions, she had to report it.
Castiel didn't know, just like the rest of the garrison leaders. She wouldn't have thought it wise to tell him even if this had been an option. She didn't want to tempt his hopefully extinct rebellious side to reawaken.
The Apocalypse had to happen. As it was written, so it would be. The angels would obey.
And they did.
All but one.
It had been a long time since she had worried about Castiel. She had fixed him; he had been obedient; he had rescued the Righteous Man from Hell as he should.
No one knew why everything went wrong.
Castiel wasn't prideful; he didn't care that he had been the one to raise Dean Winchester from perdition. Nor did he care that this made many of their siblings admire him.
Instead, he cared about Dean Winchester. And once he had met him, he cared about his brother too.
As if there was anything special about them. They had to be protected – they were after all the vessels of Michael and Lucifer, the ones who were to bring the Apocalypse.
Castiel didn't know about that, and she realized, when she heard that he was talking to Dean, sharing thoughts that he shouldn't have, that he was genuinely interested in the life of the hunter, it wouldn't have mattered if he had.
She had failed. She had thought she had turned him into a good soldier.
This time, Michael chose a different approach. Normally, she dealt with the seraphs, but this time, the archangel himself spoke to her.
Apparently he didn't consider Castiel's attachment to Dean Winchester dangerous. Uriel would control Castiel.
But Uriel wasn't the trustworthy soldier they had believed him to be, leading Castiel to help the Winchesters more and more.
He began to question what they were doing, if they were truly stopping the Apocalypse.
He found out they weren't. How, they didn't know. But he wanted to warn Dean Winchester.
She expected to treat Castiel again, but Michael decided that this time, he should remember his lesson. She had never appreciated this technique. Hers was more subtle and more effective. But she would never contradict an order.
And it seemed to have worked. Castiel returned to Heaven after he had told Dean that he didn't serve Man, and he behaved like a good soldier.
But only for a very short period of time indeed.
She had been told not to interfere, but she still watched, and she didn't understand. She would never understand. What was it about the Winchesters that made Castiel forget everything he had been built to protect? Everything he valued?
Raphael slew Castiel. It was the only way to stop him, and she closed her eyes and prayed that he had found peace.
But he was brought back. No one knew why or how, and she couldn't understand. It wasn't her place to question God's judgement though, so she continued her work and waited for the Apocalypse.
She didn't treat Castiel again. Michael had once more decided on a different approach.
Castiel was falling. She had enough to do – many angels were suspicious about the Apocalypse – and didn't pay as much attention to him as she had before.
She should have.
But in truth, she didn't think it possible that an angel would go so far to derail God's plan, to rip the book that had guided them for centuries to pieces.
But that was what he did. All for the sake of the man he had rescued from Hell and his brother, he destroyed the future their Father had crafted and left behind chaos.
All they could do was watch in horror as Michal, who had ordered them to stand down as now, he had a vessel and things would surely come to pass the way they were supposed to, was blown away by Castiel's weapon
Castiel was killed by Lucifer, but that didn't change that the Apocalypse was already being stopped.
Michael and Lucifer were kept in the cage, where Crowley kept vigil; it was impossible to get them out.
And Castiel was brought back. After everything, God brought him back.
She was convinced that now, finally, she would be allowed to adjust him, fix him once and for all. Sam Winchester was in the cage, Dean Winchester had stopped hunting and was living with a human family. The disruptive influence was gone.
But Raphael's orders were clear. He wanted Castiel to submit to him without being made to; he wanted to defeat him, he wanted everyone to watch.
So she was once more using her skills only when the archangel demanded that she fix one of his followers who had started to doubt.
She wanted to believe Raphael that he would easily win, and she tried to. She didn't really succeed. She had seen to what lengths Castiel would go to, and she was proven right – although that secret would be locked up on her Grace forever – when he made a deal with the new King of Hell.
Even knowing what he had done before, this shocked her.
He was working, with scum that should have been wiped of the surface of the earth long ago. He was working with a demon for the sake of free will and everything that had thrown this world into chaos. And the Winchesters were back, poisoning his mind once more.
Actually, looking at them and their reaction when they found out what Castiel was doing, she decided that she had misjudged them. They had done what they believed the right thing to do, and humans were faulty, had never been created as keepers of God's work.
But Castiel. Castiel, who took in the souls of monsters from Purgatory and killed Raphael and then died, leaving the Leviathans to roam the earth.
When he had declared himself God, she had withdrawn into the deepest corner of Heaven. She could do nothing now.
That he was once more resurrected was a surprise. She didn't understand their Father. Why would he bring him back if it meant that he didn't remember and lost his sanity shortly afterwards? Was it his punishment?
She still believed he could help them fix Heaven, fix earth. There was no going back, they had to work with what they had.
And so, after everything, after the Leviathans had been sent to Purgatory and Dean Winchester had left it, after Castiel had decided to stay behind to atone for his sins, she decided to rescue him and fix him. He would be a valuable asset.
He still tried to argue, and he couldn't know what was really going on, but he did as he was told. It was progress.
But once again, she had allowed herself to hope too much. Once again, the Winchester's hold on him proved too strong, and Castiel left with the angel tablet, only to resurface in a restaurant and forcing them to kill humans. At this point, she couldn't hope that it would be a lesson for him, but he had to be punished, and seeing as he considered earth more important than Heaven, had for a long time, she thought it fitting.
She would have found the angel tablet eventually, but Crowley appeared. She would never forgive herself the negligence that had led to a traitor in their midst not being identified until it was too late.
The next time they heard of Castiel, he was not only free, but with the Scribe.
Metatron. A long time ago, she had been supposed to debrief him – and find out if somewhere, a clue to God's whereabouts was hidden in his mind. He had kept himself hidden for a long time.
Now she had him under her needles, and she soon found that things were even worse than she had thought.
He wanted to make the angels fall.
And Castiel was helping him. Castiel had been betrayed into helping him. But she knew Castiel. The living legend, the one the other angels talked about constantly. If they worked together now –
She warned him. And Dean Winchester. If she wanted them to trust her, she had to tell the truth.
She returned to Heaven, praying for Castiel to see the light, to help them.
She noticed the empty shackles a second too late.
There was pain at the side of her head.
Then, nothing.