(EDIT- 1/18/2015- I've edited the first 3 chapters, so please reread them if you haven't already. I fixed some errors and I've changed some things)

-x-

"This is your fault. I loved my house. I loved my life…and you have ruined it. You ruined everything- everything!"

Was it really? Was it all her fault they were there? None of it hers? Audrey found that hard to believe, but couldn't help that nagging feeling in the back of her mind that said there's some truth in her mother's words.

She shouldn't be worrying about that at a time like this though. They're in a diner in the middle nowhere with angel-possessed people attacking them nonstop. Their only means of protection being one of God's archangels, who's apparently not even there to protect them- just one woman and her baby (that she didn't even want). She had no time to think about trivial things such as her bitchy mother blaming all her shit on her daughter.

She continued to twist the dial on the small radio, hoping for something, anything, that could give her hope or at least some type of reprieve. It'd been at least half an hour since Michael debunked their plan to head to Red Ridge for strength in numbers. They couldn't leave because it could put Charlie in danger (but if they stay here then it would put them in danger because, no matter what, Charlie was obviously going to make it) Audrey tried not to dwell on such morbid thoughts or else she'd go crazy and just make a break for it. She tried to think of something else and once again her mother's words flit through her mind.

It's just so typical of her to not place any blame on herself and just dump it all on someone else - especially on Audrey. Her mother had always been selfish and self important, but ever since her run in with 'dad', she'd sunken even further.

Audrey used the term 'dad' loosely, because she didn't want to think it was actually her daddy upside down on that crude imitation of the cross. She didn't want to think that God could be that cruel to someone. She wanted to believe that this is just a nightmare, some weird daydream of hers and she's just half-asleep in the car, waiting to reach their new home.

But then Michael walked into the room, with his knife-gun combo and intricate tattoos along his neck, back, and arms, and reality smacked her in the face.

This is real. All this…it's happening.

She felt rebellious. Maybe it's because she's still sort of a teenager, but it didn't matter as she decided to challenge God's right-hand angel.

"Why would our dear, merciful God do this to us?" she watched as Michael sharply turned his head towards her, and then continued with a soft, biting voice, "I thought he loved us all, unconditionally."

She's sitting at the bar, head leaning heavily on her hand, utterly without hope at the moment. She felt tired. She just wanted this to be over with, or to at least pretend it's not happening. He kept staring at her with those eyes.

"He does."

She quirked an eyebrow at his response, "Oh, really?"

He barely nodded.

"Then why would he want us annihilated? Why would a caring, loving father want his children destroyed?" She laughed bitterly, "Is it like a punishment? Or how 'bout a lesson? This is starting to feel like an abusive relationship, if I'm being honest here."

Michael stared at her, his gaze unyielding in its intensity. It made her almost lose her nerve, but she's naturally stubborn (she gets it from her mom), so she kept her cool, and continued in her tirade.

"Well? Is there any excuse for killing your family? Your children?" She tilted her head down, looking at the chipped wood in front of her, using her thumbnail to carve randomly into it, and in a quiet voice whispered, "A father should want to help his children….not tear them down."

A rustle alerted her that he'd moved positions, and the warmth against her right elbow told her that he was now sitting beside her.

He's so warm. She didn't think angels emanated this kind of heat. She'd always seen angels on tomb stones or solemn stain glasses, always something cold and unfeeling, but this is the complete opposite and her emotions are way too fried by now to be dealing with something like this.

Swallowing, she glanced up at him. He's still wearing his jacket, sitting with his knees pressed awkwardly into the bar because his legs are so long. He looked over at her.

"You're right…" he fell silent, letting his words settle in. "But…He just needs to see, that there is still hope for mortals. He needs to see you still have faith," his words sounds sure and confident but Audrey can see a hint of desperation behind his eyes. She can see that he needs to believe this and that he does believe in this mission with everything he has. This faith that he exuded so much moved her.

She understood what he was saying. She understood where he was coming from - she really did - but that didn't change the fact that this whole situation is really shitty. But she could see that he's trying too. He's trying to understand her point of view, a human's point of view…an unimportant human's point of view.

She cannot forget the fact that in his eyes, no matter what he says now to comfort her, she was not important in the grand scheme of things. She wasn't Charlie, she wasn't this savior baby, she's not even important to her own family at this point. She was a background character, a minor character, and she will most likely be dead by the time dawn breaches the horizon.

But as pissed and as depressed about this as she was, maybe she's starting to accept this as well. She didn't want to, though. She wanted to rail against this, wanted to force Michael to protect her too, wanted to yell at God, wanted to get a gun and go kill every last motherfucker out there who's threatening what's left of her short life. She wanted to fight back, but at the same time she's unsure if she had the strength.

She looked back to the front and felt a chill run through her petite body. She shivered and brought her folded arms closer, but almost jumped out of her skin when something large and warm settled on her shoulders. She looked up quickly, and saw that he had put his jacket on her. His face was still expressionless, though a little soft, but she could detect some nervousness in him, like he was unsure of his actions. She just smiled at him, and immediately set to work on getting her arms through the sleeves.

When she's lifting her long hair out from under the fabric, she felt his hand pull hers, and she froze. Her eyes dart to his, but his are fixated on something else.

"What happened?"

She searched for what he meant, and she saw it on her hand.

Blood.

Her hand had blood on it. Thinking for a second she remembered that it was from when her mother smacked her. She was bringing her hand up to her face, to find where the cut is, when he stopped her again.

His hand gently brushed her long bangs from her forehead, "It's already dried up, but we should put a small bandage on, at the very least." He procured some gauze and started to fix her up, ignoring her shocked gaze.

When he's done, she thanked him and he just nodded in response. She smiled at him shyly (though she had no idea why, it's not like she's inexperienced when dealing with the opposite sex) (although he was an angel, so was he really the opposite sex? aren't angels genderless? he sure didn't look anything less than a man, but she tried not to stare so obviously at the way his tight shirt pulled across his chest and biceps) and he seemed to try to return it. It seemed simple, but it's the most complex thing that's happened to her since she got here and she felt her face heat up as she turned her head away from him to look back at the bar.

She was being stupid. It was the emotions swirling around and the hectic atmosphere causing these feelings and she shouldn't be having them. She knew she shouldn't. It was just adrenaline and hormones. But…it didn't change the fact that her heartbeat seemed to be quickening in his presence, by his actions.

She almost turned back to him, when Kyle chose that moment to walk in.

"It's our watch now. You ready?" he raised his eyebrows in expectation and she nodded dumbly in response. Standing up from the bar stool with numb legs, she took a few steps after him, her arm unintentionally brushing against the back of Michael as she passed.

Michael's voice stopped her.

"It's not your fault."

Her entire body froze, and her back straightened. She gazed at him with a curious expression (and a little bit of apprehension and hope). He's still sitting there, his elbows folded on the counter.

"This was not your fault, Audrey. None of it is." His eyes were kind and full of understanding and she immediately turned away from it, her brain unable to accept it at the moment. She began to walk away. "You should remember that," he spoke softly after her.

When she's reached the doorway, she paused and turned around fully.

He's still watching her from where he sits.

Her eyes were blank for a moment, but then she blinked and an actual smile began to stretch across her face.

"Thank you."

A ghost of a smile traced his lips, and he tilted his head in a nod, "Of course."

She kept her gaze on him, squinting a little, then grinned and nodded once more.

She followed Kyle outside, her heart lifting for the first time since this all started.

-x-

"Make sure you pull that back."

"I know how to work this. Trust me."

Kyle had handed her an automatic rifle, and it seemed that just because she was a girl, it automatically meant that she couldn't handle it already. She pulled back the safety and pointed it at an invisible target in front of her as they stood on the roof of the diner.

As she continued to look down the scope, she told Kyle about one of her ex-boyfriends - a Marine who had been real gun freak (his appeal being mostly that her parents hated him). As she spoke, she tried not to wonder if he was still alive or if he was dead somewhere - a casualty of this holy war.

Kyle was quiet for a moment, as though thinking of something, and she waited for him to share - he didn't disappoint.

"I heard what your mother said." She lowered the gun. "You don't deserve that kinda shit."

She bit her lip, "She's right though."

He tried to shake his head and she continued over him, setting down the rifle and looking for a smaller gun because she couldn't look at him as she talked. "It's my fault that we're here. The only reason why we were moving is because of me…They thought that my friends were a bad influence but…I was the bad influence…"

She knew, objectively, that this whole situation wasn't, but them leaving their house? And them being stuck at the diner as everything went down? That's her fault.

She looked over at him, but he wasn't looking at her. His brows were furrowed and he's shaking his head. "When I was a shorty," he started, "The only time my old man ever gave me attention was when I did something bad" He paused, a small smirk on his face, "So you can guess what I did."

They both gave a half-hearted chuckle as he answered his own question: "I got really good at being bad."

After a moment of silence he continued, "The problem is…when you get older, when you have a family…being bad is not so good anymore." He was staring at his hands, and she lightly put a hand on his shoulder for comfort.

He turned and leaned in towards her, as though his next words would be the most important for her to hear.

"Just because you weren't good, though," he went on to say, "doesn't mean this is on you. You can't carry that weight. It'll only drag you down. You gotta keep moving."

She studied his face, her hand squeezing his shoulder, and tried to think of something to say in response.

Right as she opened her mouth to do so, the moment was broken as the lights turned on outside and inside the diner. Music could be heard playing downstairs on the jukebox and Audrey tried not to shiver as a chill went down her spine.

The sound of wheels on gravel tore through the air and they immediately grabbed their weapons at the ready.

A van skidded into the gas station and when it stopped a man got out, looking around hectically. A child could be seen inside the van, but Audrey couldn't see the mother from where she stood. She and Kyle began to relax when suddenly a mob of multiple cars blasting heavy metal came out of nowhere and surrounded the van.

"It's a setup," Kyle whispered. "They tricked them!" He raised his gun and let off a round in warning. The dad flinched but stayed still. "Get back in your car!" Kyle yelled as he let off another round, "Now! Hurry!"

She followed his example and started yelling as well. But when the dad finally started to move, it was too late. One of the cars swerved and hit him, coming to a stop right beside the van. A bunch of punk teenagers got out of the cars, and two of the guys took the kid out of the vehicle.

She heard Kyle swear next to her. When she looked over at him though, he wasn't there.

He had jumped onto the ground.

She ran to the edge to watch it all play out, dread curling in her stomach and her fingers gripping the rail.

He shot at them, and picked the child up. Holding the gun in front of him threateningly as he spun around in all angles, he warned them to stay back.

She bit her lip, anticipating him hurrying back, not knowing what else to do. But then she saw the little boy pull away from Kyle.

And then watched as he ripped Kyle's throat out with his teeth.

"Kyle!" the scream tore out of her throat, and without thinking, she was already jumping over the railing and sliding down to the ground, a hand gun gripped in her palm and shooting at everyone that came near her.

She can't even remember how she got there, to the middle of the mob, it's all a blur of aiming and gunshots ringing in her ear, but suddenly she's there - in front of the demon child that stole Kyle's life away - and she felt no regret when she points the weapon at him, staring down into his soulless black eyes.

Click.

What?

Click. Click.

No more bullets.

Shit.

"You're going to die now," the child sung, his voice mutated and dark, his eyes blank but his mouth and sharp teeth covered in Kyle's blood and flesh. A chill rushed down her spine.

She chucked the gun at the kid's head, trying to cause at least some damage and ran to the open van, ducking into the front seat and locking all the doors.

The possessed surrounded the car almost immediately and they all began to scratch at the windows, and all that's running through her mind is:

I'm going to die. I'm going to die. Why? Why, Why, Why? What will happen to everyone? Will her mother survive without her and her dad? Will the baby survive? What about the diner? What about mankind's fate? What about God? What about Michael? Will he succeed?

And then she thought: I never mattered and I'm going to die alone and she feels tears streaming down her face. A crack of a window reaches her ears she turned to see them all still banging at the car. They're everywhere, and there wasn't a single spot she could look where there wasn't a black pair of eyes staring back at her.

"Oh, God." She whimpered. She heard a racket outside the car, but couldn't see anything. "Somebody please help me." Please, help me. I want to live. I want to fight. Please give me this. Please don't let me die like this. I promise I'll be better. I promise I'll be good. Please. Please. Please.

She stared helplessly out into the masses of the possessed as they shook the car back and forth, when suddenly something caught her eye from behind them all.

It was Michael.

He's holding a gun and one of the gasoline pumps, and it only takes her a moment to realize what he's about to do and to dive down to the floorboards.

She heard the possessed scream in agony and could swear she felt the flames against the front of the car as she held her hands protectively up over her head.

It all stops and she sat back up, only to see he's moved to her side of the vehicle. She scooted over to the passenger seat and only had a second to shield her face as he shattered the glass window. The car door opened and she looked up.

He's holding his hand out to her, and with the fire blazing behind him, lighting up his figure, Audrey could see him in all his glory. She could almost imagine him as he normally was, with his wings and his bravery and her breath caught in her throat but she didn't hesitate to reach for him, letting him pull her out of the car and back to the diner - to safety.

"Come on!" he cried, hurrying them, trying to run with her hand still grasped in his.

She stumbled, but he pulled his arm tightly around her, keeping her tucked into his side, moving them farther away from the fire and closer to the open door where the rest of their people wait. They're about five feet away when the explosion cut through the air, knocking them forward the last few feet and slamming them into the floor of the diner.

His arm kept her pinned to the floor from where it was still around her and they were both immobile for a few seconds before he jumped once more into action. He sat up and began looking her over, patting her down and she dimly wondered if she was still on fire. She worried that maybe his jacket, which she still wore, has caught some of the explosion, but she felt no pain and he seemed to take care of any flame that might've been there. The others were around them and she could see the steam rolling off them both and barely registered Charlie saying, "I'll get some water." Her heart was pounding and her ears were ringing and she still felt the adrenaline coursing through her veins but she was alive. She was alive.

She looked up to Michael and grabbed his hands, causing him to halt in his actions. He turned to her, his gaze almost penetrating in its intensity.

"Thank you," she whispered, gratefulness and sincerity ringing in her soft tone.

He nodded in response (she expected nothing less), before a scream shattered the small moment.

-x-

(EDIT- A repeat of the first author's note at the top- I edited ALL of this and fixed a bunch of stuff up, so please reread this.)