In the end, it was not Mycroft Holmes who became Michael's vessel. It was 'the other one'. Scores and resentments went both ways, traumatic events no one talked about. Mycroft had put the past aside years ago, and their third brother became nothing more than a distant memory and a ring on Mycroft's right hand. The Holmes brother answered 'yes' quickly and without question, disappearing into the night.
Mycroft didn't know what made their brother say yes, but it didn't matter, did it? Sherlock was never coming back, the world would end, and Naomi would perish right along with the rest of them. Mycroft retreated to his study with a bottle of brandy, locking the door behind him. To work out the problem, or maybe he just needed to take a break from the weight of the world that pressed on his back.
Outside the door, Naomi paced the long hallway. Her black flats were silent on the expensive rug over polished wood floors. Her hands wrung, her face wore an expression that spoke of her uncertainty and hurt.
Sherlock was gone, Mycroft was compromised. Michael and Lucifer would tear the world apart. It seemed hopeless. Didn't it? But Naomi had an idea. A horrific idea and it was not going to save Sherlock. But it would save the world, and Mycroft. It seemed the best cause of action with the circumstances they were given.
Naomi couldn't do it alone, and she wasn't going to drag Mycroft along. She needed someone both knowledgeable and determined. Two qualities together were hard to find, not to mention someone who could trust. She knew just the person.
After writing a quick note to Mycroft, she snapped weak wings, tired from the fight and being cut off from Heaven. She had enough power to finish the mission. She had too. Moments later she landed at St Bartholomew's Hospital. She'd never told Molly Hooper that the angel Bartholomew was never one for healing and good will. He was as driven and ruthless as she was. It didn't matter now, did it?
Molly Hooper was not a stranger to the supernatural world either. She'd been a pathologist reference for the hunters in London and would call up her contacts if she came across an obviously supernatural cause of death. Naomi needed her. Her knowledge and determination would be crucial. Not to mention the self-defense classes she had been reluctantly taking.
"Oh, hello." Molly straighten in her seat by the microscope at the sudden appearance of the familiar woman. They'd had wine together on more than on occasion. "Naomi? What's going on?"
Naomi stopped near the door, clasping her hands in front of her. "Molly, I need your help." Pause. "Sherlock and Mycroft need your help."
There was no hesitation. "What can I do?"
Naomi almost smiled, if not for the circumstances. "Suit up, we're going on an adventure."
Twenty minutes later, Naomi equipped Molly with the necessary weapons, supplies, clothes, and a basic run down about what had happened. Molly had tears in her big brown eyes, but the news made her even more determined to help.
They were going after the Horseman's rings. Together.
Naomi's knowledge of Heaven's Intelligence and the work she'd done for thousands of years was a huge stepping stone for them. The Rings would open up the cage again, giving anyone an opportunity to knock Lucifer back to where be belonged. Sherlock would do it, if it meant saving the world. Sacrificing himself to save his brother, his friends. He was strong enough to gain control, she was certain. Otherwise Naomi was prepared to push them in with herself as well.
Needs must when the devil drives. The old saying was nearly ironic at this point.
Pestilence and War were first, each presented their own challenges that the angel and the pathologist faced in turn. Naomi's wings were tired, but she pressed on. It wasn't easy, but together they accomplished each. And when it was through, they put bloodied knives down, and flew out of the line of danger. The rings safely stowed in the pocket of Naomi's jacket.
When they went after Famine, they waded in behind enemy lines into a town completely within the grip of the Horseman. The demons were everywhere, the hunger grew stronger every second they were there. Naomi could feel it into her very being. Her vessel was greatly affected, and the middle-aged woman was very intent to having a piece of chocolate cake. Having the whole cake, as a matter of fact.
Naomi was trying very hard to stay focused, her eyes fierce and her heart so set on Famine's ring. But her desire could not overcome her vessel's. She just could not control the rebelling human body. She sat on the ground in the diner, hands and face covered in frosting
Molly stood, her heart pounding in her chest, but her chin held high and her brown eyes angry. What she most desired, what she was hungry for was not here. He was the vessel of an archangel and she was never going to see him as Sherlock Holmes again. "You will stop this!" She demanded with authority.
Famine laughed at them, wheezing out the sound and taunting words. "You think you're different, Miss Hooper? Your pet angel is reduced to hunger and here you are."
Molly stood her ground, all determination and focus. "Because what I want, what I most desire, I will never have. Because he's going to save the world. You don't own me."
As determined as Molly was, it wasn't enough to stand in front of a squadron of demons. And it wasn't long before she was thrown across the room, landing with a thud on a booth near Naomi. She cried out, struggling to get to her feet almost as soon as she'd landed.
Famine just laughed at them, the hoarse aged sound cackling in his throat. "Finish them. I'm hungry…."
"Stop!" A tall man, with long hair and blood on his lips, clenched his fist in the direction of the Horseman. The events that happened next were impossible for Molly to describe, and she wasn't sure she fully understood it. Her vision was blurry, but the exchange was fierce and demon smoke drifted through the room. But the tall man must have done something to take care of the Horseman. In the end, Famine shriveled and the demons were gone.
The angel unfolded herself from the dirty floor and cleaned herself up quickly once her hunger was gone. She helped Molly stand as well, but her attention was turned elsewhere. Her blue eyes warily scanned the man who'd interrupted them. And in turn had saved their lives. His face was familiar to her. "Sam Winchester."
His hazel eyes snapped away from the dead Horseman and landed on Naomi. "Do I know you?"
"No, but I know you. My name is Naomi, I'm an angel. You're familiar to us. Castiel and I have spoken." Naomi tucked Molly against her side protectively, but her thoughts were wandering. If only the archangels had chosen the Winchesters, then the Holmes brothers would not have suffered as such. Destiny, how fierce it was. She had no control. She tried a polite smile for the man, but it came out a bit sad. "Thank you, very much. I'm not certain what we could have done without you."
"You know Cas?" Sam was wiping the blood away with his sleeve, but his brow furrowed in an effort to understand the new angel.
"Yes, but I'm afraid I don't have time to explain." Naomi retrieved the ring, stashing it with the two others in her pocket. She glanced up at him again, offering a small smile. "Return to your brother, continue on as you have, I promise, this all will be settled soon."
Sam didn't look like he wanted to take that for an answer, but relented any further questions. They exchanged a short goodbye with more sincere gratitude. Then the two women vanished into the night with naught but a flutter of wings.
London. It was nearing dawn in England, but a dank fog had settled over the city. Not the quiet and peaceful type morning fog, but the night cloud that sucks the life out of everything caught in it's chilly embrace. When Naomi landed, she'd been searching for Death. However, it seemed she would not have to actually go looking for him.
Death had come to them.
The reapers stood in rows around Mycroft's estate, hundreds of them at attention. They weren't moving, just staring at the house with cold, unfeeling eyes. Waiting. Waiting for people to die.
Molly's heart caught in her throat, and she hadn't moved from where she was tucked next to Naomi. Fear had clutched her chest, making it hard to breath. Not that she could see them, but she felt them. She'd seen enough death to recognize the coldness and emptiness that came with it.
The angel turned towards her, using her free hand to cup Molly's cheek. Eyes met in the near darkness. Naomi's voice was soft, gentle almost. "Molly, I thank you. Your help has been invaluable, and if this works, the world will be indebted to you. But I fear your part to play is over, I am going to send you home now. I want you to be safe."
"But-but what about you?" Molly's eyes teared up.
Naomi almost smiled. "To be determined. I wish I could say I would see you again, but the probability is very low."
"What's going to happen?"
"What must." Naomi closed the distance and pressed a tender kiss to Molly's forehead. A single action to thank her for her help and friendship. And a wish for a hope of a future. "Good-bye, Molly Hooper."
Without waiting for the woman to protest, or to say any sort of good-bye, Naomi sent her home.
If destiny allowed them to see each other again, so it would be. For the moment…the final step had to be taken.