"Shi." Dean's soft rumble brought me instantly awake.

"What's wrong? Is Sam ok?" I was already on my knees and leaning toward his brother when he snugged an arm around my waist and dragged me back onto the couch with him. He tumbled us both sideways to stretch out the full length of the couch and burrowed into my back. "Dean, get off me you big lug—"

"'m cold," he mumbled, tucking his face into the crook of my shoulder. "You're warm. Warm me up."

I huffed but he was conked back out before I could think of a good retort. I rolled my eyes, waiting uncomfortably for his grip to loosen but if anything he only snuggled deeper into my body heat as the moments crept by. His skin was cool against my back and I groaned silently, realizing I didn't have it in me to leave him to shiver alone. Reluctantly I shuffled back into him a bit until I found a comfortable spot to rest my head high on his arm. He sighed, his other arm tucking close against my belly. Time passed slowly as I listened to his breathing deepen. Gradually I had to admit it was sort of nice, being held so close. Calming, somehow.

I watched the flames of the fire die down until only the embers were giving off their heat. The night slowly passed and early morning light started to peep in the windows. A soft stroke on my belly brought me out of a light doze.

"Shi?" Dean murmured, his scruff rubbing against my neck. "Ha. Tol' you."

Damn it, I knew as soon as he woke up he would ruin it. I hunched and backed further into him, trying to limit his access to my undefended skin. "Told me what?" I whispered, dodging a little when he scruffed against me again.

"Told you you'd end up taking advantage of me," he rumbled.

I squeaked in protest as he rolled me on my back, his tired green eyes teasing. "What! You made me come up here—"

"Made you?" His expression scrunched, his voice barely more than a rumble. "I don't think so. Last I remember you made me come in here and wait for pie—which never came by the way—"

I struggled to free my arm from our tangle of bodies and blankets. I pointed to where the pie had cooled on the end table, raising my eyebrows in defense.

"—and then I wake up with you hogging most of the couch and stealing my blankets—"

"I did not!" I hissed before casting a glance at Sam and lowering my tone. "You, sir, don't sleep well unless you have a body to cuddle up to, don't even try and deny it."

His face scrunched in a pout.

I made sure my voice was no louder than a whisper. "Don't think I don't know you two keep plenty busy on the road. It's not my fault if you're going through a dry spell—"

He winced. "I don't have dry spells—"

I poked him in the chest – which was finally warm and radiating heat – and gave him a stern look. "Oh yeah? You haven't shaved in weeks. I know you. Scruff you're okay with, but this?" I tugged on the beginnings of a beard. "You'd shave this in a heartbeat if you thought you had a chance in hell of getting lucky. Winchester's don't do beards."

Dean rolled on top of me, pushing the air out of my lungs. He braced his forearms on either side of my head and glared down at me playfully. "Dad had a beard. I could rock one if I wanted to."

"I'm just saying," I shrugged as much as I was able and he wiggled a little to settle in between my thighs, knocking one of my legs off the couch to rest on the floor. A skitter of awareness suddenly raced from the top of my head down my body and I froze, losing my train of thought. His green eyes were vibrant in the early morning light and his necklace was hanging down, the little totem resting against my collarbone intimately. I became abruptly aware of the fact that beneath the cocoon of his blanket every inch of him was bare skin except for some very snug briefs. He was warm now, his body radiating a toasty heat that started to gather and pool low in my belly. Dean seemed oblivious to the intimacy as he leaned forward to rub his nose on mine playfully.

"Trust me, sunshine, the beard is no deal breaker. There were plenty of women checking me out on our way up here. Now, Sam's mangy face on the other hand…" He let his words drift off as he turned to check on his brother who was still passed out in front of the fireplace, giving me a blessed moment to catch my breath. Son of a gun. This was awkward. I used his moment of distraction to unseat him, pushing him off me and tumbling him to the floor.

He hit the ground with a grunt. "What the hell, Shiloh!"

I ignored his questioning look, getting to my feet. My heart was beating a little too fast in my chest and I was confused. Immediately I missed the warmth of his body and I rubbed my hands along my arms, trying to brush away the feeling. I felt off balance and I didn't like it. "You're heavy, Winchester," I retorted too loudly, crossing the room and grabbing the pie off the end table.

"Hey, wait a minute – where are you taking that pie?" Dean scrambled to his feet.

"It stayed out all night, I'll dump—"

He snatched one of the plates out of my hands before eyeing me warily and making a grab for the second as well. I gave them both up without a fight. "There's nothing wrong with them. Don't take my pie, woman."

I shrugged, at a loss for words for once in my life.

Dean gave me a funny look. "Are you all right?"

"Don't make her mad, Dean," Sam said groggily from the floor. "Or at least wait until after she makes breakfast."

I latched onto the subject with both hands. "That's what you really came up to see me for, wasn't it, Sammy? Fine, guess that's all I'm good for around here. What sounds good? I've got everything in the fridge to get the whole works going." Geez, why didn't Dean put on some clothes already? With his hands full, the blanket was beginning to slip off his shoulder and there were suddenly some very intriguing curves and dips to his muscles that nearly took my knees out from under me. And the tattoo that I had run my fingers over last night was suddenly singing me a siren song, begging me to explore and see what that patch of skin would taste like. What the hell?! I spun on my heel and was halfway to the front door before Sam's response filtered through the roaring in my ears.

"-fles?"

"Fine. Sounds good. I'll get started on it as soon as I get some chores done."

"Chores? Wait, I can help—"

I cut him off with an over-bright smile. "And what, undo all my hard work warming you two up? Won't take me but a few minutes and you can both still use a little breather. Sam, your clothes may be done in the dryer. Dean, yours still need to go in. You two stay put and stay warm and I'll be back in a jiffy." I grabbed up my boots and let the door slam loudly behind me as I sucked in a lungful of icy mountain air, hoping it would clear my head. Stop being such a dumbass, Shiloh. Dean was like my brother. Hell, maybe he was right and living alone was starting to get to me. I had been on my own for so long that I couldn't remember the last time I had been on a date. In fact, had I ever been on a date? I grabbed my ax and started around the cabin, my thoughts tumbling chaotically through my head. Dad had been sick for years before I convinced him to sell the shop and move up here. He had always talked about living in the mountains, about getting back to nature and how living in the city was ruining me. As if living in a two-bedroom house attached his mechanic garage on the back ass of nowhere was city living. Pop had always had funny ideas about things. But by the time I had convinced him to move up here, his best years were gone and he could only sit by and watch me do the things he had talked about for so long. So I had learned. Fishing, hunting, hiking … hell, I had even started wood carving because Pop would always talk about how his hold man could turn a piece of wood into a work of art. I was crap at it but I had learned.

I set a log up on my chopping block and planted my feet, bringing the ax down in a clean arc. The blade sank into the wood, splitting it cleanly in two. I tossed both pieces on the woodpile on the porch before grabbing the next log and setting it up.

Pop had passed nearly two years ago next month. In some ways it felt like I had been on my own for a lifetime, but in others it felt like just days had passed since that first quiet morning without him. I didn't regret a moment of my life. He had been sick for a long, long time and I was all he had. What did you do when family got sick? You took care of them. It was that simple. But the reality was that Pop hadn't been very fond of outsiders, with the Winchesters being the exception. Maybe that was why I had latched onto them so tightly, they were the only ones allowed in my orbit and something in their isolation had called to me. But the reality was that I had been seventeen when we moved up this mountain. The only boys I had room for in my life were Sam and Dean and precious little had changed on that front in the years since. The only times I ventured into town were for supplies, and the grocery was run by a kind wrinkled old lady and the gas station owned by two middle-aged brothers. I had gone into the larger nearby cities a few times but they had just seemed, I don't know … loud. And back to my little cabin in the woods I would go, each and every time. Geez, even in my own head I was starting to look like a pathetic socially awkward recluse. My life experiences might be sadly lacking but I read all kinds of books. About the world, about history, about adventures and battles and heartaches. I knew how the world worked, had watched its timeless cycles again and again through the eyes of thousands of authors. And I had come to the conclusion at the ripe age of twenty-three that I was perfectly content to spend the rest of my days in this burrow on the side of a mountain. Alone.

But if there was one thing I knew for sure after this morning's little fiasco?

Dormant hormones had snuck up on me once, and I'll be damned if I let it happen again. Sam and Dean were the only family I had left and nothing in the world was going to jeopardize that. Not some passing awareness, not the fact that I could still feel the weight of his body on mine, or the fact that the side of my neck was still tingling from the scrape of his beard on my skin. None of that mattered. Dean was family and that's all there was to it.

"Shiloh! You out here?" Sam's big clomping footsteps came around the front corner of the house just as my ax fell, sending two pieces of wood tumbling off the chopping block and into the snow.

"Right here, Sam!" I called, stuffing the remaining chaos inside me down deep.

"Shouldn't you have a coat on?" He arched an eyebrow at me, his big arms crossing over his chest. "After all that nagging about staying warm—"

I pointed my ax at him warningly. "Watch it. All my nagging has put you back together more times than I can count. And no, city boy, if you're chopping wood, a coat will just overheat you. As long as you aren't chopping down a whole tree, the cold won't get to you before you're finished."

Sam gave me a funny look. "Do you always chop your own wood?"

I snorted. "Where do you think the pile on the porch came from?"

His gaze went to the three neat rows, each six foot tall.

I gave a little shrug, tossing the pieces I had just cut on top where they fell neatly in place. "Of all the chores, it's one I enjoy the most. It helps calm my thoughts."

"Are we stressing you out?" Sam grew concerned, crunching toward me in the snow. "I know we came up out of nowhere last night. Now that the storm has passed, we'll get out of your hair. We can head back down to the Impala—"

I waved away his worry, swinging the ax deeply into my chopping block. "Shut up. I just got you two warmed up. Don't go running off on me just yet. I'm all finished here, let's get breakfast rolling."

His eyes lit in boyish glee. "Waffles and omelets?"

I grinned. "Would I dare make you anything else?"

He moaned, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "Why do we not take you hunting with us always?!"

"Ha!" I barked. "Like that would work. You two spend way too much time in that damn car. I'd go stir crazy within a week."

He waved my objection aside. "It's roomy. You'd feel right at home in no time."

I linked arms with him and we walked together to the front door. "Lucky for you, I have my own home and my own fully stocked kitchen. And that fully stocked kitchen is about to make your dreams come true."

A sound escaped him that was somewhere between a whimper and a moan. "I've missed you, Shiloh."

I stretched on my tiptoes and grabbed him by the back of the neck, dragging him down into my hemisphere with a laugh. "I've missed you too, Jolly."

He winced. "Really? We're back to green giant references?"

I lifted a shoulder and stretched up even farther to press a maternal kiss on his forehead. "I haven't seen you in a while. I like to stick with the basics."

He was still hunched over in my grasp when the door swung open behind us, letting out a wave of heat. Dean tugged his blanket up higher and glared at us. "Will you two quit screwing around? There are starving people in here, and I can't find the rest of that pie. I know it's here. There's no way you ate six pieces of pie last night." He arched an eyebrow accusingly. "Where are you hiding it?"

I threw an arm around his neck and pulled him in for a quick smooch on the forehead, too, determined to move past my flare of awkwardness this morning. He stiffened and pulled back to look at me quizzically. I released them both quickly and sailed on into the house. "You'll never know! I've seen what happens if I leave you alone with my desserts-"

A jolt of air suddenly hit me and blew me backward into both of them. We all scrambled as a large man came barreling through my front hallway, a huge knife clutched in his meaty fist.