"So," Harvey says, conversationally, as he turns onto the highway, "What the hell happened back there?"

Mike is staring out the window, and it takes jostling his shoulder and a sharp Mike to get him to turn towards Harvey. He blinks. "Sorry, what?"

If Harvey wasn't worried before, he is now -- usually Mike is high-energy, fidgety, but now he's contained, almost listless. Harvey fights to keep his tone casual as he says, "I said, what the hell happened back there?"

"Oh. Nothing."

"You let yourself get ambushed--"

"I didn't let myself get am--"

"You let your guard down, got ambushed, got pinned to a wall by two demons, passed out, and then..." And then all the lights had burst, the windows of the warehouse had shattered, and when Harvey had finally gotten out a flashlight and looked around, the horde of demons they had been hunting were all on the ground, unconscious.

Mike had been fine.

"I don't know what happened," Mike says.

Harvey looks at him. "If you're serious about becoming a hunter, you're going to need to learn how to lie better."

A few miles pass silently, then Mike sighs. "I..." he starts, before hesitantly saying, "I heard a voice... in my head..."

Harvey looks sharply at him. "Christo."

Mike's eyes don't flash black. "I don't think it was a demon. I mean," he adds hurriedly, at Harvey's dubious look, "demons don't usually ask your permission beforehand, do they?"

"Not usually," Harvey admits. Mike goes quiet, hands fidgeting in his lap, and Harvey prompts, "So what do you think it was, then?"

Mike smiles self-deprecatingly. "Would you believe me if I said it was an angel?"