Disclaimer: Not mine….are you happy now?

Author's Note: So sorry that it took so long to get this up…I haven't been working on this story much, though that's not an excuse, it's been written for at least two weeks…

Chapter Eight: Facing Demons…

Micah's eyes flutter open slowly against the sunlight streaming in through the windows. She lays on her side in the sofa bed, her legs curled up under her. Looking down, she notices Dean's arm wrapped protectively around her. She can feel the warmth of his bare skin behind her and his breath on her bare shoulder.

Carefully, she rolls over to face him, and his arm instinctively pulls her closer, and she reflexively places a hand on his muscular chest. She watches him silently as he sleeps, amazed at how innocently angelic he looks.

Gently, she presses her lips against his. Dean pulls her closer, so that her chest is flush against his, deepening their kiss. He laughs as she pulls away, his arm still wound tightly around her waist.

"That's not funny. You startled me," she sighs, her fingers absently running up and down his arm.

"I'm sorry," he soothes. She smiles, laying her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"What's your brother going to think?" she asks suddenly, not looking up at him.

"I think he'll be okay. A bit jealous, maybe, but he's always been jealous of me," Dean muses.

"Shut up," Micah smiles against his skin.

"I'll be okay as long as the two of you put clothes on before you get out of that bed," Sam says from the doorway to the kitchen.

Embarrassed, Micah buries her face in Dean's chest. "Oh my god! I've never been so mortified," Micah sighs into him.

"It's okay," Dean chuckles, his voice deep and reverberating. "Come on, we should get up."

Turning over, Micah reaches to the floor for her oversized sweatshirt. Crawling under the blankets, she slips her shirt on and appears once again and crawls out of bed. Dean, slipping into worn jeans, watches Micah come around the couch, her legs bare and tanned.

"Do you boys want anything for breakfast?" she asks, suppressing a yawn.

"We're not really used to being so well-treated," Sam grins down at the girl. In her bare feet, she only stands to about his chest.

"Well, as long as you're here, you might as well get a good, home-cooked meal," Micah states decidedly.

"I'm not arguing," Dean smiles. Coming up behind where she stands in the middle of the kitchen, he wraps his arms around her waist.

"Okay, how does French Toast sound?" she asks, stretching.

"Great," Sam sighs. Since he'd left with his brother, he's been wanting to experience a little bit of normal.

"Wow, that was great," Sam sighs, sitting back in his chair.

The three of them sit around the small circular table, their breakfast finished. Dean hadn't seen his little brother so satisfied since he'd left school. As content as Sam was, Dean could also tell that Micah was nervous and tense. He figured it was nerves about going to the mansion today.

"Well, since you two already got to clean up, I'm going to go change," Micah smiles, standing. She begins to pick up the table, but Sam stops her.

"We'll get it," he says soothingly. She looks up at him, putting the dishes in her hands into his. "Go," he says calmly.

She turns, throwing Dean a quick smile, and disappears to the hallway. The brothers clean up in silence for a bit, neither knowing what to say nor if there's anything to be said.

"She's worried," Dean states quietly.

"I can't lie, I am too," Sam admits. "This really is dangerous."

"Like other trips haven't been?" Dean scoffs. "I've mad a decision, not to mention a promise, not to leave until this is taken care of."

"And what if you never leave?" Sam explodes. "What do I do then? What do I tell Dad? I wouldn't know how to continue!"

"Sammy, don't worry. It'll be fine. We'll finish this, then we'll find Dad-together. I promise you that," Dean assures, looking his brother in the eye. A slight noise from the doorway catches their attention. Turning, they see Micah, in olive green corduroys, a navy t-shirt, and brown hoodie. "You heard?"

She nods, and Dean can see the tears in her grass green eyes. "I'm sorry," Sam whispers, running a hand over his face.

Dean goes to the girl, leaning down to be eye level. "Hey, don't you worry. I made a promise to you, and I'm going to keep that promise. I'm going-we're going to fix this and you're going to be safe. We'll be safe. Nothing is going to happen to any of us."

She looks at him, hesitant to say anything. She'd fallen for him, and Sarea had always known. That's why she chose him, this man standing here in this bright kitchen in torn jeans, a gray t-shirt, blue long sleeved shirt, and leather jacket. Sarea chose him, knowing full well that her great-great-granddaughter would not be able to resist someone who was so understanding and…she thought the word was vulnerable.

"You've got to trust me," he speaks again, squeezing her upper arms.

"Okay," she replies. Even Dean can barely hear her.

"We should get going, then," Sam states, moving toward the living room. Watching the moment between Micah and Dean had made him a bit uncomfortable.

"Are you going to be alright?" Dean asks, leading Micah out of the kitchen.

"Do I have a choice?" she jokes. "I guess it's either continue to suffer under the control of Sarea or risk your life to stop her."

"Hey, I'm okay with you risking my life," Dean smirks at her as they step off the porch.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay with that," Sam says to himself. "I wish I had a say in it."