Shawn and Deja Michaels need to start over after an accident leaves their marriage on the verge of ending. They purchase a 'fixer upper' in the East, hoping to have a new leash on life. How can things ever be repaired between them when it seems like nothing is going right? While Deja falls more in love with the house, she begins to realize that they're not alone in their new home. Something else, something cruel and evil, is there with them.

Disclaimer: Obviously I own nothing but Deja and what might possibly constitue a plot.

A/N: Thanks to watching one too many horror flicks over the past few months, I am now in the mood to return to my 'roots', which is yes, writing about the supernatural and all that. Though it's been quite some time since I've done anything like this so hopefully it won't turn out *too* bad.

CHAPTER 1

Deja stared up at the old, weathered house; glad she was wearing sunglasses because it hid the shock in her eyes. Forcing herself to look again, she appraised the Victorian styled house with hopefully an unbiased eye.

It wasn't TOO bad, she supposed. Sure… it could use a fresh coat of paint; that preferably wasn't that hideous shade of purple. The windows probably needed replaced, she was fairly certain they were warped and shingles were dangling from the roof; which undoubtedly leaked.

The front porch however, was enough to make her almost crack a smile. It was in disrepair too but she could already see the balustrades repainted, perhaps trellis' lining the ground before the porch for climbing rosebushes.

"Well?"

She turned to look at her husband, nodding. "It's perfect."

Shawn knew she was lying but managed a tight lipped smile anyway, reaching out to awkwardly wrap an arm around her shoulder. "Not yet it isn't, but it will be, sweetheart." He promised.

"Perfect." She echoed.

***

Shawn Michaels had met Deja through a mutual acquaintance of theirs, which had been shocking enough as Shawn hadn't thought Steve Austin had known a woman who wasn't a blond. Steve had set them up on a blind date, at a bar no less, and they had hit it off immediately.

Deja was funny enough to keep his attention and firm enough to not let him get too cocky and lippy with her. Which he had at first a bit annoying but as the night wore on, he found himself respecting her no bullshit attitude.

Truthfully, Deja had found his arrogance mildly cute at first, but she knew better than to let him think he could get away with the cocky attitude, and everything she knew it would wind up entailing. Lord knew he was good looking enough to have reason to be somewhat arrogant; it was a damn shame, the man was gorgeous.

He had hair that was about as long as hers, cascading down past his shoulders. It was a light brown, though she was fairly certain she could detect hints of honey in those tresses that he hadn't bothered pulling back into a tail but simply brushed and left loose.

He also had a five o'clock shadow, which normally she would have found a turn off as she liked her men on the smoother side but… Everything about Shawn seemed to simply scream at her that he wasn't her usual, and she found that… refreshing.

Taller, lean and muscular with a tan that made her a bit envious; a smile that melted her insides even though she'd never confess to it. Though she had quickly noticed his mouth could go either way, it was both good natured and a bit mean.

What had probably sealed the deal for Deja were Shawn's eyes. She assumed they were hazel because sometimes they appeared green, others a gray color; his eyes were constantly sparkling, drawing her in.

While it hadn't been love at first sight, it had definitely been lust.

Shawn had felt pretty much the same way about her. She had a sense of humor; seemed fairly intelligent and wasn't hard to look at by any means. Of course, she had quickly established he wasn't getting away with his usual cocky attitude and that had made her all the more interesting.

While his hair had natural waves too it, hers was straight as a board; a silky, pliable board that he was immediately tempted to run through his fingers but refrained because he had a sneaking suspicion she would have drenched him with her beer.

Her hair matched her eyes, a dark brown that reminded him of chocolate; warm. He had guessed that without the heeled boots she had been wearing, she would have been maybe three inches or so shorter than him; and she was lean.

All over, almost boyish in her figure; which was not something he generally found attractive at all. Slim hips; flat stomach and well, in his male chauvinist mind; he had juvenilely acknowledged her to be a table top.

By the end of the night however, she was the most stimulating; beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

It helped that she had refused his advances so far as sex went; which were half-hearted to begin with as he hadn't wanted to scare her off; though she had agreed on a second date.

Six months later, they had gotten married.

Shawn had made Steve his best man simply because it was Steve who had introduced them.

It was within their second year of marriage that Deja had told Shawn the best news he had ever heard; second to her accepting his proposal.

She was pregnant. They were going to have a baby.

Immediately, he had begun preparations for a nursery; wanting to add on too their small ranch that was snugly settled on the outskirts of San Antonio. If it were possible, they fell even more in love with each other during that time.

Then tragedy had struck.

He had gone to help Steve round up cattle, as he did every year simply because it paid rather well and he liked riding, and Deja had gone along; planning on visiting with some of their neighbors while the herders were out.

They had been a few riders shy so she had volunteered to go out with them. At four months pregnant and still not showing, it hadn't seemed like a big deal at the time. She could ride as well as anyone and knew her way around the land.

Shawn hadn't been watching her when the accident happened. Deja and Steve had been working together to round up a few stray mares when suddenly her mount –which had been a gorgeous American Paint- reared; letting out a scream.

Steve had started letting out curses.

Shawn had turned in time to see Deja trying to control the horse; which was now reared onto its hind legs.

"Copperhead!" Steve had shouted; letting out another round of curses.

The man they were all working for –Carl- had at this point drawn a pistol.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Shawn hadn't been able to do anything but watch as the snake shot forward; biting again.

It wasn't fear of a snakebite as Copperheads –while venomous- were hardly ever fatal. It was what had happened next that everyone had feared.

When the horse broke out into both a fury and a panic and began trying to stomp it's attacker to death opposed to fleeing, Deja had flown off.

The baby had been lost.

And it seemed their marriage had too.

At first, Shawn had blamed her for joining them instead of remaining behind like she was supposed to. Then he had blamed himself for allowing her to go when he had known better.

Then he had felt guilty all around simply because he knew it hadn't been either of their fault and he hadn't been content to not lay the blame.

But the damage had already been done. Tension reigned between them for the better part of six months; their third year wedding anniversary had come and gone without open acknowledgement from either of them.

It was perhaps that factor that had made Shawn start contemplating the idea of moving. Their house was a constant reminder of what they had lost. The unfinished nursery he had eagerly been working on; a basket of baby clothes and blankets they had been given by Deja's friend –and mother of three-, Larissa.

Even if the reminders were removed, the nursery converted into something else; the feeling of what might have been would have lingered.

So he had started house hunting.

Outside of Texas.

He figured if they were going to start over and make the attempt at saving their dissolving marriage, they might as well do it properly and completely start new.

Deja had agreed.

Which is how they wound up in New England, with this house.

***

"It's a fixer upper but…"

"It's perfect, Shawn." Deja said, injecting life into her tone. She loved her husband, honestly she did, she just couldn't bring herself to stop mourning; fairly certain she had gotten over the lingering resentment that he had blamed her for the loss of their baby.

As if she hadn't blamed herself enough without his help.

"You sure, sweetheart?"

She smiled slightly at the hint of worry in his tone; turning so they were standing pressed chest to chest and lightly kiss his chin. "It's a project, which is exactly what we need. We can make this our house."

Relief flooded his face and Shawn gently cupped her cheeks in his calloused palms. "We'll be fine, Deja, we're going to work through this, together." He promised; feathering his lips over hers.

After a moment, she pulled away; her head turning back towards the house. "So do I get the tour?"

"Honey, I haven't even seen the inside yet." He chuckled, his arm moving back to its comfortable place around her shoulders. "The real estate agent will be here in the morning to give us the keys, and the power and water should be on by then. So tonight…"

"Another motel?"

"Just one more." He leaned his head down until it was resting against hers. "Then tomorrow night, we'll sleep in our new bedroom, in our new bed."

"The movers will be here on time, won't they?"

"They had better or I'm not paying them a goddamn dime." He scowled, remembering the trouble they had had with the company. "Let's go before I give myself a heart attack or somethin'."

"Somethin'." She repeated, shaking her head.

He snorted, swiping the keys from her back pocket.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Deja turned back to the house; giving it one last look and nodded. This would work, he was right; they would make it work.