The room was quiet, save for the sound of wooden planks being moved. It seemed louder than it actually was, but Sam tried not to concentrate on that. He was tired, and just as tense as the silence was, but he didn't have time to rest. Jess was in danger, and that fact was all the fuel he needed to keep going.

He could just barely hear Claire fiddling with Bobby's old radio in another room in a desperate attempt to find out what was happening outside of the small diner that had become both a safe house and a war-zone for their sad little group. Sam felt sympathy for the poor girl; her father, Jimmy, was dead, and her mother, Amelia, was slowly spiraling downward into the pit of insanity—to a point where she had to be tied to a chair just to keep her from hurting someone, or herself.

If they got out of this alive, Sam hoped that she would make it. She couldn't have been more than—what, fifteen, sixteen maybe? A girl like her shouldn't be in such a situation.

Sam sighed quietly to himself, passing another wooden plank over to Michael, who took it, preparing to nail it to one of the windows to further secure their semi-safety.

He took a moment to look Michael over with an air of curiosity. The dim lighting made his short, light brown hair and naturally-tanned skin look a little darker; his green eyes unreadable as he worked methodically. Now that his leather jacket had been discarded, leaving only a black t-shirt underneath, Sam could see two messily stitched-up wounds coming up from either shoulder, as if something used to be there, but had been removed.

Wings. Michael had removed his wings. Sam had to give him credit, the guy must be stubborn. This thought lead to a question, which he asked before he could tell himself he shouldn't. "What did you do? You know…before you came here?"

His voice pierced the silence like a knife, but Michael didn't seem disturbed by it. He looked thoughtful for a short moment, before responding, "I was a soldier, once. A general in His army."

"What changed?" Sam pressed further, as Michael appeared not to mind answering. "What made you leave?"

"I was given an order I didn't believe in." The archangel responded carefully. At Sam's questioning look, he clarified, "He lost faith." Michael hammered the last nail into place, securing the window, "I didn't."

"How come you didn't lose faith?" Sam asked with a small frown of confusion. "I mean…it seems like everything I have faith in causes me nothing but trouble."

Michael turned to him, and again appeared to think for a moment, choosing his words carefully as he leaned against the doorway. "When God chose your kind as the object of his love," he began, "I was the first in all of Heaven to bow down before you. My love and my hope for mankind hasn't lessened yet." He shifted, pausing again before continuing, "But I have watched you trample that gift. I've watched you kill each other over race and greed; waging war over dust, rubble, and words in old books. And yet," he turned to look at Sam, "in the midst of all this darkness, I see some people who will not be bowed. I see some people who will not give up, even when they know hope is lost. Some people who realize that being lost is so close to being found." He stepped into Sam's personal space, absolutely serious as he looked into the taller man's eyes, "I see you, Sam."

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Michael cut him off before he even knew what he was going to say, "Fifteen years old, your mother dies; your father withdraws from the world. You spend the next seven years of your life helping him find his way home. You love a woman who bears the child of another. And you love her, making a fool of yourself even though you know she may never love you the way you love her." Michael placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "You, Sam. You are the reason I still have faith."

Sam stared at him, unsure of whether to thank him, walk away, or start crying.

Thankfully, he didn't have to make that decision.

"It's almost time for the next shift."

And with that, Michael turned and left, leaving Sam in the room by himself to think about what Michael had told him.

They were still stuck in the diner. Angels were still after Jess's baby. Claire's family was still falling apart. And they all still stood a high chance of dying before it even reached dawn.

But despite all of this, as Sam walked out of the room to talk to Jess, he still felt a small glimmer of hope form in his chest. Maybe they did have a chance to get out of this okay.

Maybe all they needed was a little faith.

Supernatural/Legion. Because I've been dying to write it for a while now.

Dean!Michael = Michael
Sam = Jeep
John = Bob (just so you know XD)
Jess = Charlie (It helps that the actress who plays Jess also played Charlie)
Jimmy = Howard
Amelia = Sandra
Claire = Audrey
Bobby = Percy

...I'm supposed to be writing an essay for history. But I wrote this instead. :'D