One of the benefits of being on Earth for so long is she had many friends, both in low and high places. From Presidents to royalty, from secret societies to national agencies.

It had been nine months since she had asked them to keep an eye out for the kindred and still not one of them had any information.

Anastasia had to reluctantly give this creature credit, it knew how to hide.

But she didn't have time to worry about that now, tying the shoelaces of her black Converse trainers before shrugging on her black hoodie and leather jacket.

'Where are you going?' her beloved horseman asked, coming in from checking on Daredevil.

'There's a parcel at the Post Office I need to pick up. I've managed to persuade the Vatican to loan me the Alpha and Omega bible, unedited by man, just the way God intended it to be. I'm hoping it might yield some answers'.

'Could they not have delivered it here?'

He had mellowed somewhat about her going out by herself, not that she did very often. And she had a sneaky suspicion it was only because Ichabod had left for England but he still got a bit jittery.

'No one will come to this part of Sleepy Hollow. Haven't you heard? This place is haunted'. She smiled playfully.

'Is that so?'

She hummed in acknowledgment, nodding her head.

'By an English red coat, who lost his head during the revolutionary war. They say he's doomed to wonder the Earth, taking the heads of others in the hope of finding his own'.

'Superstitious fools'. He rolled his eyes causing her to laugh.

'Yes, because knowing that you are actually the Horseman of Death would put them at ease so much more'. She pecked him on the lips 'I'll be back soon, my love'.

She exited the postal building with the packing in hand. Sending a rare, valuable religious artefact through the mail might have seemed odd and careless to anyone else. But secret societies around the world had quickly learned, if you truly want to hide something, you do it in plain sight.

She took the rare opportunity to wonder through the high street.

She watched as a mother carried her daughter as they crossed the road. Several young teenage boys ran pass her, racing each other to school. She smiled, passing an elderly couple who were sat outside a café in the morning sun, enjoying a hot beverage whilst holding hands upon the table.

It was moments like these that reminded her of Eden.

She missed Eden terribly. Angels were built for the peacefulness and serenity of Heaven. Everything on Earth was always so noisy and chaotic, a constant uphill struggle.

But every now and again, amongst the pandemonium there was tranquility.

And then she saw something that felt oddly out of place. An ancient looking priest, standing at the corner of the opposite street with a sign saying 'The End Is Near'. A cold shiver ran up her spine as they locked eyes. She had never seen this man before and yet he seemed so familiar.

Suddenly everything faded away. All the noise, the lights, the people blurred as she felt something deep within her. Something she had never experienced before, it was like a slight vibration, a sense that something was soon about to happen. But whether it was good or bad, she could not say.

Until she collided with something solid.

'Ichabod'. She exclaimed, surprised to see the Englishman.

'Forgive me, Anastasia. I was deep in thought and wasn't paying attention to my surroundings'. He apologised.

'It's fine, I too wasn't paying much attention' she said, looking over his shoulder to find the priest was no longer there 'I didn't get a chance to say it before you left but you have my condolences for Katrina and your son'. She said trying to snap out of her daze, had she imagined that old man?

'Thank you'. He accepted with a pained smile. 'How is Abraham?' he asked, changing the subject.

'He's not angry'. She answered, reading between the lines.

She had assured Azrael that it was alright to be upset over her death, he had after all once loved her but he had acted rather indifferently over the situation.

She watched as Ichabod shoulders visibly relaxed, his body sagging slightly from the release of tension.

'And how is the research faring?'

'Unfortunately not very well. I'm no closer to an answer than I was the last time we spoke'.

'Well, if there is anything I can do to assist, do not hesitate to ask'.

'Thank you, Ichabod'.

2 days later…

Reading and making love. Those two things alone were what had filled her days these last nine months. It was a simple, peaceful existence. And she was more than happy to continue on like that through the rest of eternity, as long as she was with Azrael.

Speaking of which…

She felt arms wrapping around her midriff, his mouth planting a path of delicate kisses along the right side of her neck.

'I have to concentrate' she giggled, her body betraying her words as she moved her head to the side to give him better access.

She hadn't told him of the incident involving the priest. She felt bad for not telling him but he would only worry and she didn't want that.

He mumbled something unintelligent against her skin, refusing to remove his lips from her neck.

A few months ago, they had been kissing until he abruptly stopped. Quickly he raised her hand to his cheek and smiled, when she had asked him what he was doing, he had told her that he could feel a slight warmth to her touch.

And ever since then, he had insisted he needed more practice.

Not that they ever needed an excuse to kiss or touch one another.

Her husband was nothing if not insatiable.

Not that she minded, of course.

His hand found its way underneath her T-shirt, cupping her breast through her bra. She could already feel her body reacting to his attentions, her breathing becoming heavier as his thumb brushed over her nipple.

A knocking at the door brought their passion to a screeching halt.

'Were you expecting someone?' she asked rhetorically.

Another knock.

He jumped into action, briskly walking to retrieve his axe.

'My love, I doubt those who wish us ill, would knock first'. She stood up from her chair, following him to the door.

He swung it open, lifting his blade.

'Ichabod. Abbie. What can we do for you?' she absentmindedly placed her hand on Azrael's arm, making him lower his weapon.

'Apologies for the disturbance but we would not of come if it was not of grave importance'.

'Please come in'. She moved out of the way, standing in between them and the horseman. 'How can I help?' She asked as they stood in the main hall.

'This morning, we awoke to this'.

Both Ichabod and Abbie rolled up their sleeves, revealing red rashes and boils dotted across their skin.

'And it's not just us, the whole town has been infected. Men, women and children. The hospital is being overrun with emergencies'. Abbie explained.

Anastasia ran her fingers along Abbie's arm 'I know this plague. It was used as a display of dominance against the Egyptians'.

'During the time of Moses?'

'Yes. But it wasn't used to kill anyone. However, I sense it has been mutated to do just that'.

The witnesses looked at each other nervously.

'How long?' Ichabod asked.

'A day, maybe two'.

'Can you heal it'

'No, this is a heavenly plague and therefore sent by God. My power would have no affect on it'.

'You're saying God sent this to kill everyone in Sleepy Hollow?' Abbie raised her eyebrows.

Anastasia shrugged her shoulders 'I don't know. But it is strange, Ichabod's been gone all these months and all has been peaceful. And then a few days after your return this happens, almost as if something has been waiting for you'.

'Is there a way to cure this?'

'Only by my Father. But if there is a way on Earth to cure it my brother, Michael, would know. There might be a way for me to contact him'.

She had asked the witnesses to wait outside, saying she wanted to get things ready for the summoning but in truth, she just wanted a moment alone.

Anastasia had to admit she did not think she would ever speak to Michael again, let alone be the one who reached out to him.

She was glad now, that she had chosen not to tell Azrael that it was in fact Michael who had taken her wings at their Father's command. She could only imagine how he would react if he knew.

She still loved her brother despite that fact. She knew he hadn't wanted to do it and she had forgiven him long ago.

However, that didn't stop her anxiety from taking over.

And then there it was again.

That same sensation she had a few days ago, right before she had bumped into Ichabod. A strange vibration in her lower belly. Only this time it felt stronger. She closed her eyes, taking large breaths in the hopes of making it pass.

'Are you alright, my darling?'

'I'm fine, my love' she smiled. However the expression on his face told her he was not convinced 'I'm just a bit nervous, talking to Michael after all these years'.

'I'll be here, right beside you'. He assured her.

'That gives me more strength than you know, my love'. She reached for his hand, feeling him give her a reassuring squeeze 'come, we mustn't keep them waiting'.

They stepped out, hand in hand, into the bracing cold night air where the witnesses stood waiting for her to summon Michael.

'So how do we summon your brother?' Abbie asked.

'There's a verse I shall speak in Enochian. Humans once used it to summon Michael in times of great need'.

'Enochian?'

'The language of the angels' Ichabod answered for her.

She let go of Azrael's hand, moving a few feet forward, taking a deep breath.

'Micheal,

Mighty right hand of the Lord,

I beseech thee,

Help me win against this foe of God,

So that his creations may prosper'.

All was silent.

'Phanuel'.

There he stood.

Her older brother's blue eyes, which were the same as her own, staring back at her.

Just like Azrael, he very rarely displayed emotion in front of others. He always presented himself as very serious and stoic but his eyes always portrayed his true emotions.

And she could tell he was happy to see her.

'Michael'.

They embraced tightly.

Brother and sister reunited.

She had missed him greatly.

'We need your help'. She released him, remembering the reason as to why they had summoned him.

'I do not know how this plague fell amongst mankind. It was neither Father nor one of our brothers or sisters who set it loose'. He answered.

Of course he would already know why he was brought here.

Michael was always curt and straight to the point.

'But it's an heavenly plague'.

'I'm afraid I do not have the answer you seek'.

'How can we cure it?'

'The purest water will cleanse Sleepy Hollow of its ailments'.

'Thank you'.

'Take heed, sister. I also come bearing a warning'.

'A warning?' Anastasia asked, confused.

'This creature may look and sound like Azrael but it is not him'.

And with that he was gone.

Everyone stood silent after hearing Michael's foreboding advice.

'So, I guess telling riddles run in the family'. Jenny joked, trying to disperse the tension that had suddenly thickened the air.

'Purest water. As in holy water?' Abbie asked, following her sister's lead.

'My brother speaks of the water that baptised Jesus'.

'Oh good. For a moment I thought it was going to be something really difficult to get hold of' Abbie said sarcastically.

'There's some in Washington D.C. underneath the Smithsonian'.

'How?'

'Are you kidding. Humans trade sacred religious artefacts as if they we're Pokemon cards' Anastasia joked, looking at the blank confused faces of the two pre-revolutionary war soldiers 'I'll explain the reference later'.

'Washington, that's only a four hour drive. We can make that'.

'No. We can't risk the spread of infection. I shall go alone, bring it back and put it in Sleepy Hollow's water supply'.

'I'll accompany you'. The horseman spoke.

She nodded her agreement, taking his hand.

'We won't be long'.

And with that the witnesses were left standing there alone.

In an instant they were on the grass verge of the Smithsonian Institution building. A gothic medieval looking building, made from red bricks, with several tall towers. She kept hold of his hand, leading him towards the south entrance.

'My love, about what Michael said…'

'How do you know the water is here?' he asked, avoiding the subject of Michael.

Because deep down, he felt the Archangel had been right about him.

When he had watched the siblings embrace one another, he had felt his jealousy rise from the pit of his stomach, he wanted nothing more than to rip the Archangel's head off.

What right had he to be jealous?

Michael was her – their – brother.

'The blade which Moloch used to kill you was never found. It just simple vanished. I thought there was a chance it could be on Earth, so I enlisted the help of a few trusted friends and before you know it, ten thousand years later you have yourself a secret organisation. I also hoped it would bring about an answer to how I could bring back your memories. But I may have collected a few other things along the way'.

He quirked an eyebrow.

His wife was certainly full of surprises.

'Did you find the blade?'

'No'.

Entering the building, they followed the many twists and turns, reaching a staircase that led them to the basement. He was surprised to say the least that there was no security, considering that they were about to retrieve a priceless religious object.

She removed the dust cover of an old bookcase at the far end of the room, taking a deep breath whilst rolling her eyes.

He gave her a questionable look.

'The other members thought it would be a funny inside joke' she said as she pulled a copy of Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code, releasing some kind of mechanism that freed the bookcase from the wall. 'I'll have to get you a copy so you can understand what I mean'.

She pulled the hidden door open, he entered the room behind her. It was as though he had entered an entirely different building. Gone was the medieval brick work and paintings of long since dead men.

This room was lined with bright white-tiles, almost clinical looking. With a desk and a door on the opposite side of the room from where they had just come through.

She rang the bell that was placed on the desk.

He furrowed his eyebrows.

This secret society had a bell?

For visitors?

He almost found that laughable.

'Strange that no one is here' she pondered 'I'm gonna check out back. Wait here in case someone comes'. She said entering the door that stood behind the desk.

Abraham stood waiting for her to return.

He felt the hair at the back of his neck stand on end as he sensed someone creeping up behind him.

He turned, grabbing his would-be-assassin by the collar and throwing him on top of the desk, raising his axe above his head as the man in front of him unholstered his gun.

'Skippy, it's okay. He's with me'. Anastasia suddenly appeared by his side, stilling his arm whilst holding out her free hand to stop the other man from firing his weapon.

'Ah,…Anastasia. You came just in time. I was about to kick this dummy's ass'.

Abraham narrowed his eyes.

Really?

How old was this guy?

Judging by his balding head, surrounded by short white hair, Abraham would have to guess he was in his fifties, maybe sixties.

Not to mention his short stature.

And he was seriously suggesting that he was going to win.

Anastasia helped the man up, dusting him off gently before gesturing towards Abraham.

'Skippy, this is Azrael'.

'So, you're the husband and the Archangel of Death' Skippy narrowed his eyes, adjusting his glasses. 'Why is he wearing a British revolutionary war uniform?' Skippy asked, walking around Abraham. Giving him a thorough inspection, like a father judging whether or not a suitor was worthy of his daughter.

'It's a long story and I'm afraid we don't have the time to tell it. I need access to item M3:14'.

'Anastasia, please. The board will have my head if I allowed an artefact like that to just wonder out of the building. Plus they've just begun offering dental'.

'But can they offer you eternal salvation'.

'Have you got anything a little less final?'

She searched her jacket pockets, pulling out an orange wrapper.

'A Reeses nutragous bar?'

'I guess I can always get dentures'. He shrugged, taking the offered candy bar and briskly marched into the back room.

'So, he knows who you really are?' Abraham asked.

'I've known Skippy since he was born. His parents used to work here'.

'And his name's Skippy?'

'No. His name is Riley Thomas Clarkson. We call him Skippy because when he was ten years old he ran away from home, said he wanted to see the world, so he snuck on board an old frater. They were thirty-four miles out at sea when he came out of his hiding place, finding a crew member to complain about his sea sickness. They had to come straight back'. She chuckled. 'He walked off the gangplank as green as grass, his father said he'd make a skipper yet, hence we call him Skippy'. She explained, seeing his unamused expression 'I guess you had to be there'. She smiled.

'Ready to go?' Skippy asked, heading towards the elevator.

Anastasia nodded as Abraham followed closely behind her.

'Woah, woah' Skippy held his palm out to bringing the both of them to a sharp halt 'Should he be coming with us?' He asked pointing at Abraham 'He is one of the Horseman of the apocalypse'.

'I trust him with my life and with this. He can come'.

'You're the boss' he said somewhat hesitantly, turning the key in the elevator and allowing the doors to open.

They all packed themselves into the tight space, with him and Anastasia at the back and Skippy in front.

He looked at her, feeling her small hand find its way inside his. She smiled at him, her head coming to a rest on his upper arm.

He couldn't help but admire at how perfect she was in that moment.

She was full of love and compassion.

Even after all she had suffered she had never once given up hope that she would find him in those ten thousand years, she had never wavered in her love or loyalty for him. She was without doubt the strongest person he had ever known.

'So, did it hurt when you lost your head?' Skippy asked, breaking the tranquility of the moment.

'What?'

'Your head, did it hurt when…' he made a cutting motion across his throat.

'Yes'.

Unfortunately even immortals felt pain.

'So you don't change into a skeleton? You know, like the paintings you see of Death riding his pale horse'.

'You know humans always exaggerate, Skippy'. Anastasia remarked.

The elevator doors finally opened, revealing a vast room that went further than the eye could see. It was full of boxes and crates of all shapes and sizes. Some of them protected by steel bars and bulletproof glass.

They made their way through the maze in silence, finally coming to a glass room with a singular item resting atop a pedestal.

Skippy took out his keycard, swiping it through the lock before placing his thumb on a scanner.

'Humans do so love their little gadgets' Anastasia whispered to him as if she was talking about a child playing with their favourite toy.

The door slid open, Skippy allowed them both to pass, staying put like he was keeping guard.

Anastasia walked up to the metal box, lifting a hidden flap that revealed something that looked similar to a needle, only it was hollow. She grimaced as she pierced the pad of her thumb allowing her blood to fill the needle.

'Anastasia?'

'It's okay, my love. Some of these artefacts are very powerful that only the blood of an Archangel can open that which keeps them safe'.

She lifted her thumb, wiping the blood away. A green light suddenly started flashing and the lid popped opened, reaching inside she pulled out a metal flask adorned with a cross.

'Alright, let's get back'.

She brought them to the hospital, she could sense the witnesses were nearby. The street was crowded with people of all shapes and sizes. People were coughing and wheezing, scratching profusely at the bloody boils that covered their skin. They were screaming, crying and some where even praying.

It was pure chaos.

'Anastasia' a raspy voice called out to her.

She turned to find the witnesses walking towards them, though they looked as though they were about to collapse at any given moment.

Their eyes were red and glassy, their breathing laboured. The infection had spread within their bodies much faster than she had anticipated.

'So how exactly do we get it into the water supply?' Ichabod enquired.

'The same way all water does'. Anastasia stated, unscrewing the top from the bottle and emptying the contents onto the ground.

'Did you just pour the water on the floor?' Abbie asked in disbelief, her mouth agape.

Rains clouds suddenly clashed, darkening the atmosphere as water started to downpour from the sky with such ferocity.

'Now, whoever touches or drinks the water will be cured' Anastasia spoke over the sound of the rain that was already starting to wane.

Both the witnesses raised their sodden sleeves to find that there was no trace of the rashes or boils that had been scattered across their skin. Everyone around them had the same immediate relief, their sores and afflictions now gone.

'We should go. The rain will soon disperse and daylight will be upon us'. She looked up at the horseman, who had been silently watching in the background. Everyone had been in their own little world that, thankfully no one had noticed him.

'Of course. Thank you Anastasia and you, Abraham'. Ichabod said, expressing his gratitude.

They entered the carrier house, making their way to the main living quarters.

'My love, wait' she walked up to him, not leaving much space between them. 'You're upset by what Michael said'.

He sighed, knowing that he could no longer ignore the subject.

'He's right. You deserve so much better than me. I'm a demon, I'm everything you should despise'. He looked away from her, he felt so unworthy of her.

'Don't listen to our brother. Michael has always been holier than thou, that's just who he is'. She placed her hand on his cheek, turning him to face her, looking deep into his eyes 'I love you. It doesn't matter whether you're an Archangel, a human or a demon. I love you for you'.

She kissed him ferociously, smiling as she felt him reciprocate her intensity. The warmth of his tongue slipped into her mouth which she accepted wholeheartedly, entwining her fingers in his golden locks.

She gasped, not from pleasure or pain but from surprise.

The sensation she had experienced the past few days, suddenly hit her like a punch to the gut. And she knew something had quite literally taken root within her.

'What's wrong?' He asked urgently as she gripped him tightly.

'I'm…I'm pregnant' her voice and entire body was shaking.

She placed her hand over her lower belly. She could feel it, the thrumming of new life underneath her skin.

Her heart was in her throat.

This was impossible.

'Pregnant?' he said, dumbfounded.

'This can't be'. She whispered, panic starting to settle into her bones.

She raced over towards the table, digging through the pile of books, allowing them to fall to the floor.

'My darling, what is it?' He asked worryingly.

'In fifteen fifty-six, I met Nostradamus and he gave me a prophecy. It never made much sense until now' she finally found the page she was looking for. 'Here' she passed him the book.

She could see his eyes darting back and forth, reading the passage over and over again.

When Death gives Life,

The Witnesses shall defeat the chosen three,

Freeing the Morning,

And The Horseman will end.