Dean stood, hands on his hips, looking up at the roof. The shingles were finally in place and the new ceiling was up in the main room of the cabin. At least the place wasn't falling down around his ears any more.

He grabbed his cell from his pocket as it rang, looking to see that it was Sam and swiping his finger over the screen to answer. "Hey, Sammy."

"Dean, how's it going up there?"

"Well, the roof's fixed. So at least the place won't completely collapse before we come up here again. If we come up here again."

On the other end of the call, Sam furrowed his brow in confusion. "Why wouldn't we? We usually go up there fishing at least once a year. It's just that the last two or three…"

"Were fucked up beyond belief? Yeah. And now I've got trouble with a local."

"What? Who'd you get into it with? We don't know anybody up there."

"There's where you're wrong."

Sam sat up straighter in his chair. "Dean, what the hell are you talking about?" He heard the sounds of the refrigerator opening, the soft whoosh of a beer cap being removed, and Dean plopping down on some piece of furniture.

"Rusty's in Whitefish."

"You're kidding."

"Not kidding."

"Oh, shit. What happened, Dean?"

Rusty jumped a foot when her phone rang, and she stared at it for a few seconds before reaching for it. She looked at the screen hesitantly, then closed her eyes and answered. "Hey, Sam."

"Hey, yourself, Red. Heard you ran into an old friend the other day." He heard her take a deep breath and exhale, and he shook his head. "Rusty, what the hell?"

"I thought he followed me up here. How was I supposed to know? He took me by surprise, I just… This wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to have a few weeks, or months maybe, to clear my head. I wasn't prepared to run into him, Sam. I didn't even know what to say. So I just – yelled."

Sam ran his fingers through his hair, weighing his words before speaking softly. "Rusty, you know we have a cabin up there, right? It belonged to an old friend, we've had it for years. Dean had no idea you were there, he went up there to clear his head. He misses you, Red. For that matter, so do I."

He heard her take a wavering breath, exhaling slowly. "I know. And I miss you, both of you." There was another long silence, long enough that Sam thought she wasn't going to speak again, but she finally went on. "I just – I can't be around him, all day, every day, working with him, bandaging his wounds, hearing him laugh, listening to his voice. If I'm around him, I want more, and I can't have it. He won't allow us to have it. I can't live like that anymore, Sam."

Sam was quiet for a moment before responding, understanding and gentle as Sam had always been with her when she needed it. "I know. But… Rusty, I think you should tell him how you feel. What if he does feel the same way, and you just never pushed him to admit it? What if you waste weeks and days and years that you could be together?" She didn't answer, so he continued. "I don't know how he feels, I just know he feels strongly about you. Maybe it is just the love of a friend, maybe it's more than that and he's just as scared as you are. I don't know, Red, but I do know that the only way you'll find out is if you talk to him. Tell him the truth, and then you'll know. Then maybe you can both move on, together or apart."

He waited patiently, and barely heard her when she answered. "Okay, Sam. Maybe you're right."

"Of course I am." She could hear his smile even over the phone. "Just remember, I'm here if you need me. Now, here's how you get to the cabin…"

Rusty scribbled down his directions, chewing on her lip as she tried not to think about the 'what ifs,' the 'maybes.' "Thanks, Sam." She ended the call and stood there for a few moments, debating within herself, before pocketing her phone and heading out the door.

Dean climbed out of the shower, finger-combing his hair and pulling on a pair of grey sweats before hooking his fingers around his beer and heading to the deck. The sun felt good on his skin, and he laid his head against the back of the chair, his eyes closed to the glare. The heat was soothing to his tired, sore muscles, the hard work from the last couple of days starting to catch up with him. He almost dozed off, caught himself and set his beer down, settling back into the chair, when the sound of a car coming into the drive changed his plan for a nap.

He frowned a little, wondering who had wandered into the wrong place, unfolding himself smoothly and walking barefoot across the deck to the rail at the side where he could see the front of the cabin if he leaned over a bit. His eyes widened a little as Rusty's Charger pulled in beside the Impala, and she spied him leaning on the rail as she got out of the car.

"Come on through, help yourself to a beer," he called out, and she nodded, heading towards the front door. He grabbed his beer, then leaned back on the rail, one arm resting there while the other dangled the bottle at his side. She came through the door, a little hesitant, her lip between her teeth for a moment before she opened her beer and took a swallow. "How'd you know…"

"How to get here? Sam," she answered before he finished the question. "He said… He thought we should talk. That I should talk to you. You know, without the yelling."

"Hmmm." He drained his bottle, then stood looking at her, silent, waiting.

Rusty's heart was pounding in her chest, and having him stand there with no shirt on was not helping. How was she even supposed to start? It was hard to keep her eyes from roaming to where his sweats hung loosely at his hips, or to his bare feet, crossed at the ankles, and she raised the bottle to her lips again, taking a long, bolstering drink of the cold brew. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I yelled at you, I'm sorry I assumed the worst. I'm just – sorry."

"Yeah, well – I probably would have assumed that too, if I'd been in your place." He bit at his lip, then raised his eyes to meet hers again. "But why are you so pissed off at me, Rusty? Is it," he stopped, blowing out a breath as his gaze dropped to the deck again. "Are you still mad about the bar that night? I mean, I don't blame you, I was a dick…"

"No. Yes. I mean, that night was…" She trailed off, and a soft, "Fuck," under her breath made a crooked smile appear fleetingly on Dean's lips. "Okay." She set her beer down, leaning on the rail across from Dean, her arms folded over her chest. "I'm so done with pretending, with running away, with hiding how I feel. I love you, Dean. Not heart-fluttering, fainting away, high-school girl crush love. I fucking love you. With everything I've got. And that night, when I kissed you, and you responded by shoving that brunette bimbo in my face – that was either you telling me to fuck off, that you're not interested, or it was you running scared. And for the next few days, I tried to get back to where we had been before that, walking on eggshells around each other. But I just couldn't. I couldn't be around you every day knowing that you'd run away every time I smiled or let my feelings show the slightest little bit, knowing that I'd never have more with you than that. I couldn't stand it, Dean." Her voice cracked just a little, her eyes hazy with tears as she looked at him. He looked… well, he looked for all the world like a little boy, guilty and wanting to take back whatever he'd done to get himself in trouble, feeling bad over the hurt he'd caused. She took a shaky breath and forced herself to continue, stubbornly fighting to keep her lip from actually quivering. "So that's why I left. I knew I needed to get away, try to start a life without you. Because you wouldn't let me start one with you." She blinked hard, chasing her tears away and backhanding away one willful drop that forced its way free. She stared at him, his head hung down again, and she could see his chest rising and falling with the increase in his breathing. And when he raised his head, the green of his eyes clouded with his own anguish as he ran his tongue slowly over his lips, she felt it like a physical blow.

"I'm sorry." Rusty closed her eyes tight at his words, her jaw clenched, her fingernails digging into her own arms. "I just – I know it sucks. But I know you're better off without me, Rusty."

"Bullshit!" She glared at him, her lashes wet with the tears she was determined to keep at bay.

"Look at what happened to your family! And you – I brought you along on that hunt, I almost got you killed!"

"What happened to my family had nothing to do with you! My father helped a lot of hunters, Dean, and what happened to him and Bryce wasn't your fault. If you and Sam hadn't come, I'd be a vampire right now. Have you ever thought of that? I'd be a monster. You fucking saved me! And as for me getting hurt – nobody forced me to come along on that trip. I wanted to come along. I begged you." Dean's gaze was resolutely fixed on the deck near his feet, and she felt a surge of anger flow through her. "Look at me, goddammit!" His head snapped up, his jaw clenched, but he stared back at her defiantly. "I don't want to hear about how bad you are for me, how you'll get me hurt or killed, how everything that's wrong with the whole damn world is your fault. You look me in the eyes and tell me how you feel about me, Dean Winchester. You tell me you don't care about me, that you want me out of your life, and then I'll find a way to get on with mine. But you have to tell me, Dean. I'm not leaving until you do."

Now she was getting angry, and she took a couple of steps closer to him. "Sam said you miss me. Do you?"

"Yes!" He shouted the word, then clamped his lips together, tight with his growing temper, his eyes bright with the effort to keep himself in check.

"Good." She moved closer still, within arm's reach, then stopped, refusing to look away from his heated glare. "Do you miss me, like, 'Hey, let's hang out and have a few laughs,' or 'Damn, I'd love to kiss you?'" She watched him turn his face from her, the muscle in his jaw working, and she stepped up to him, her body almost touching his, her hands at her sides. "I'm afraid you're gonna have to look me in the eye and tell me that you want me gone, Dean."

The very air around them was thrumming with tension, and Rusty steeled herself, refusing to move away, to look away. She could see the pulse in his neck, could see his chest rising and falling with his agitation, and her hands were itching to touch him, but she stood her ground. She felt her knees weaken a little as he turned his face back towards her, his expression almost making her take a step back. He leaned his head down slightly, touching his forehead to hers, and she could feel his breath hitch just a little before he spoke, the naked want in his voice shaking her to her core. "Damn, I'd love to kiss you."

She bit her lip, hard, making herself stand still before him. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." This time it was almost a growl, his teeth clenched together, and she felt a shiver go through her.

"Well, then – do it," she whispered, and as if a barrier had suddenly disappeared from between them, they were on each other, fingers grasping, lips hungrily seeking. They stumbled over each other into the house, Rusty's clothes discarded in a trail to the bedroom, Dean's sweats in a pile at the foot of the bed as he crawled up over her. They ravished each other, a flurry of hands and mouths, soft curses and moans, their need for each other making them almost reckless.

There was no preamble, just Dean's hand between her thighs, a rasping curse at the welcome he found there, then sweet, slow penetration as they fit themselves together, two halves of a whole. Time stopped for an eternal second, their breathing stilled, their bodies trembling in anticipation before long-restrained emotion and desperate need set them in motion, straining and grasping, leaving bruises and marks on each other that would show for days.

They both slept for a time, sprawled over the bed and each other, until finally Rusty shivered violently and reached for the blankets they had kicked to the floor. "Hey, where you goin'?" Dean's voice was low, gravelly, his hand reaching for her and landing on her thigh as she stretched out to reach the covers.

"Nowhere. I was just cold," she answered, cuddling up to him as she gathered the warmth around them.

"Good. You're not leaving again, okay?" He pulled back from her a little, his hair ruffled and his eyes still heavy-lidded and dark from sleep. "I mean it, Rusty. I want you to quit that job, come back home with me. Where you belong."

"Where I belong? Like this? In your bed? By your side?" She looked up at him, a vulnerability in her tawny gaze that made him pull her close, his arms tight around her.

"Yeah, Red. By my side, in my bed, in my life." He moved a hand to her face, tilting her chin until he could kiss her lips, a gentle caress, his arm tightening around her as her tongue brushed over his lips and their kiss deepened. He let his fingertips trail over her jaw, down her throat and further, causing her to inhale sharply as they teased at her nipple. She moved her hand down his body, her nails skimming his skin lightly, and she hummed as she found him, rapidly hardening, curving up towards her touch. He backed away from their kiss, hissing between his teeth as she put a hand on his chest, urging him to his back as she kissed his neck, her hand gently coaxing him to full hardness.

His head reared back, his hips raising off the bed a little as she bent to flick her tongue over his nipple, and she smiled a little at his muffled curse. His fingers tangled themselves in her hair as she worked her way down, nipping at his hip bone, then leaning over to lick a slow drag over him, root to tip, moaning softly at the flavor of his arousal. She tasted every rise, every hollow, teasing at him until his grip on her hair tightened, the muscles of his thighs tense.

He was almost writhing beneath her when she finally took his head into her mouth, running her tongue around and over the smooth heat of him, and she sucked gently as she took him in deeper with each pull. "Fuck, Rusty," he groaned from deep in his chest, fighting to control the urge to buck harder into the heavenly sensation. "Please… Come up here, I wanna be inside you so bad…"

She looked up at him from under her lashes, sucking hard as she slowly pulled back, and he held his breath, desperately battling the urge to come right then. Dean sat up as she moved away from him, pulling her close and crushing his lips down on hers, his fingers still tangled in her hair, his other hand kneading at her breast as she sighed into their kiss. He pulled her into his lap, and she straddled him, small, needy sounds escaping her as she ground down onto his rigid length. He pulled back from her, raising his hips a little to aid her in finding the friction she craved. "You're so ready for me, aren't you, baby?" he whispered into her ear, nuzzling into her neck as she whimpered, pressing herself closer.

"Please, Dean," she whined softly, and he lifted her as she helped guide him home. He held her tight, keeping her still while she pulsed around him, holding her breath for a moment at the sensations, the size and length of him filling her. When she finally shifted, her fingers digging into his shoulders for support, they both moaned, low and guttural.

He moved his hips slowly, a sensual, rhythmic roll that had her digging her nails into his skin, and he reached down between them to touch her clit, sending liquid fire through her veins. She quaked above him and around him, and he groaned deep in his throat , holding her tight as she came apart. As her grip on him loosened, he laid back down, looking up at the blush and glow of her skin, her eyes slowly focusing on him as she returned to herself.

She trailed her fingers over his chest, down over his abdomen, and then placed them behind her, one on each of his muscular thighs as she began undulating on top of him, her eyes closing again from the intensity of pleasure as she ground herself down against him with each movement.

He reached up, the weight of her breasts in his hands as he brushed his thumbs over her sensitive nipples, a low grunt forced from him at her body's reaction, squeezing his cock tight within her walls. "You are so fucking beautiful," he said between clenched teeth, watching her blissful expression, the graceful rippling of her body as she gyrated herself gently, letting waves of intense pleasure wash over her. He held off as long as he could, wishing he could watch her, feel her around him, for hours, but his need was growing more desperate by the second. He pulled her down to himself, kissing her hard, nipping at her lip before flipping them over and hovering over her for a moment, staring down at her with a voracious hunger in his eyes. "Do you have any idea… how fucking crazy… you make me…" he managed, each few words punctuated by a barely controlled thrust, and she clamped her legs around his thighs, meeting each one.

"Maybe you should show me," she whispered, clamping down around him, a velvet vise that sent him over the edge. He lowered himself down, sucking and biting at her neck and shoulder, fucking into her so hard that it drove the breath from her lungs with each stroke, one hand digging her nails into his back as the other clutched at the sheets. He growled, long and low, as he came, and his throbbing heat inside her fired off her own explosion as she cried out to him, shuddering violently beneath him.

After a few moments he moved to her side, resting his head at her breast as she combed her fingers through his hair, cradling him close. He nuzzled at her nipple, sucking it gently into his warm mouth, sending another shudder through her as he chuckled softly, kissing the delicate nub before settling his head on her shoulder, his hand coming up to cup the other breast as she spoke softly. "So – by your side, in your bed, in your life."

"Yeah, Red. For what that's worth, I know it's not much – but I don't wanna live any more of whatever it is without you. So come home."

He dropped a kiss to her chest as her hand smoothed over his shoulder, down his bicep, and she smiled a little as he hugged her and flexed the muscle there. "Okay. I'll come home."