Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own…don't sue…

Author's Note: As you can see, I'm continuing this, even for the few that are still reviewing…hey, if you like it, let me know! Here goes chapter seven, with more of Dean being the belligerent brother…

Chapter Seven: Going Home…

"Micah, I'm not going to leave until I know that you and the rest of this town are safe. That's final," Dean says, rubbing her back soothingly.

"But we're going to need to get into that house," Sam says softly, sitting down next to her on the couch. "How did Sarea die?"

Slowly, Micah looks up into Dean's eyes. "When she was 61, a maid saw her walking down an upstairs hallway toward the mirror ballroom. That was the last time anyone saw her. She just disappeared in the house."

"So she's held captive by it for all eternity," Dean says carefully. "So it can forever torture her."

"No, that's not it. Henry was taken by the house when Sarea was 30, six years after it took Elijah, the older of the twins. She was so horrified that the house could take her oldest son, but it was as though it tried to make it up to her by taking Henry. By the time my great-grandpa Adam left, the house was the love of her life."

In the silent moments that follow, Sam watches his brother and this girl who has so obviously stolen his heart. The wheels are turning when his thoughts go back to the nightmares he'd had before they'd gotten to Ashland. Suddenly, it all fits.

"Dean, I need to talk to you for a second," he says, standing up.

"We'll be back in a minute. Don't move," Dean comforts Micah. Standing, he follows Sam out on the porch. "What is it?"

"Okay, the way I see it, we've got two options: We get into the car and leave, or we get into that house and send that bitch to hell," Sam states shortly. He shivers slightly against the cold night air, leaning against the porch railing.

"What are you talking about?" his brother counters, crossing his arms over his taut chest.

"Those nightmares I was having on the way here? The girl with the bright green eyes was Micah." He watches as Dean stiffens. "She was telling me to go save you. We were in that house, I know it! This thing is going to kill you! Or her. I never got far enough to find out. Dean, I don't know what to do," Sam's voice cracks from worry. And fear.

"We can't leave here knowing that nothing's been solved, that people are still at risk. That girl in there, she's haunted by it. Her attachment to it, by family or whatever, will kill her someday. I'm not going to let that happen," Dean states resolutely.

"Dean, you just met her. You can't truly think-"

"Sam, there's one thing you have to learn about me: I may be afraid of true commitment, but every one of the people I help means something to me. With Micah, it's more than that. It's like, I don't know, we're meant to be or some mushy, philosophical shit like that. I can feel it."

"Okay, then we have to get into that house. Do you want to tell Micah or should I?" Sam asks, turning toward the door.

"I'll tell her. You go get some sleep. I think it's best if we go over there in the morning." Sam nods, following his older brother into the house.

In the living room, they come upon Micah, with the sofa bed pulled out, blankets and pillows about on the floor.

"I'm gonna go catch some shut eye," Sam yawns, gesturing to the hallway. "G'night, Micah."

She looks up briefly to respond, "Night, Sammy." Dean is surprised when Sam brushed off the nickname, heading for the bedroom.

"What're you doing?" he asks, sitting down in the armchair.

"There is no way in hell that I'm sleeping in my bedroom. Not after my nice little 'visit' from Sarea. So I'm making myself a nice little bed out here," she responds, smiling proudly at how homey she's made it look.

"Understandable. Look, Micah, there's something I need to talk to you about," he begins carefully.

"What time do you want to go over there?" she responds softly, sitting at the end of her 'bed'. He looks at her, surprised by her reaction. "That's the only way to get rid of her, isn't it?"

"Well…yeah. Look, Micah, I know you're not exactly crazy about going in there, but there are a lot people in danger," he replies earnestly, gently taking her hand in his. He waits for any sign of her having a vision, but it never comes. "Even you."

"But Dean, my vision! She wants you dead! She says you're a threat to this family, and that she will have your soul before you destroy her legacy!"

"She spoke to you?" Dean asks, confused.

"Yes," she answers hesitantly. "She told me all of those things in the other room."

"Is this the first time this has happened?" he inquires, looking into her eyes. She doesn't answer, but averts her gaze. "Micah, has she spoken to you before?" he repeats. Again, no answer. She sits in front of him, a broken girl, looking at her hands in her lap. "Micah! Answer the question! Has this happened before?" The anger in his voice causes her tears to return.

"Yes!" she cries, tears flowing down her flushed cheeks. He pulls back, unsure of what he's just done. "Yes, it's happened before! The night before each victim. All my life, she's had this insane connection to me. She's on a mission to make my life miserable. Even those years when the house was supposedly a 'dead cell', I knew they were wrong. She was still taking people. People she'd lured here by some sick twist of fate. They were people nobody around here knew, so no one knew they vanished. Yes, they're probably registered with Missing Persons, but I wouldn't know. I don't dare go look for fear of reliving the vision of how they were taken. When I was 10, I watched her take both of my parents. Charlie raised me from then. That was 11 years ago and I still have nightmares. Do you know why I'm still here? It's because of that connection. When I even think about leaving, she's here, torturing me with visions and psychological pain. Do you even know why you're here?"

"Well, there was an article-" he begins, but doesn't finish.

"She'd finally taken enough lives to land our little town in a national paper. She knew who you were, Dean Winchester, long before you made the decision to come to our 'rescue'. And now, she's going to take you, too," she finishes, her breath ragged and her face red and tear-stained.

"That's why you didn't want us to go in there tonight. Why didn't you say something? I can understand now that I know the torture and pain she's put you through."

"I guess I didn't think that you'd believe me. You know, telling someone that you're psychic and have been haunted by the ghost of your dead great-great-grandmother usually results in them thinking you're crazy," she sighs, wrapping her arms around herself. For a moment they look at each other, when a hint of a smile comes to Micah's lips. "I'm sure our yelling isn't helping Sam get any sleep."

"Don't worry, he doesn't sleep well to begin with," Dean returns her faint smile, moving toward her.

"Jessica," she replies, more of a statement than the question it should be. He nods, a single strong arm winding around her waist.

"You know, I've never met a girl who can contend with my personality quite like you," he breathes huskily into her ear.

"I think you're just a big softie. You think I didn't hear you desperately calling my name through the bedroom door?" she asks playfully.

"What can I say? You've stolen my heart," he laughs, leading her by the hand to sit on the makeshift bed.

She sits and he kneels down on the floor in front of her. "Dean, I'm not going to be just another girl that you conquer and leave. I don't have the emotional stability to keep going through people who do nothing but leave me."

"That's not what this is about," Dean states seriously. He moves closer to her, his lips pressing softly against hers. For a split second, she begins to pull away, but Dean places a warm hand on the back of her neck, and she relaxes.