"Shit."

It was shortly after opening, and Y/N was leaning over the bar with Meg, both of them holding bottles of various spirits as Castiel cleaned up a spill.

The singer looked up, following the waitress' eye line to see what has caused the spontaneous curse.

Agent Singer had just walked through the doors of Crowley's along with a black man of a similar age and dress. Benny was standing in front of them, tense as she'd ever seen the man. Though they couldn't hear the discussion from the bar, they could feel the pressure of the conversation from where they stood.

Meg's knuckles had turned white as she gripped the bottle of tequila almost to the point of breaking it. Cas' hand came from seemingly nowhere to cover her hand in comfort, but it did little. "What the hell are they doing here?"

Y/N couldn't answer.

Finally, Benny seemed to lose the argument, and stepped aside. Y/N could almost hear the threat he must've given to the two men.

They walked inside the almost-empty nightclub, making their way immediately to the bar. The girls tensed, but Castiel stood and, without a trace of fear, simply said, "You'll have to excuse me gentlemen. I spilled some water, and you will have to wait until I'm finished cleaning it up before I can serve you anything."

Agent Singer waved him off with a "take yer time," but the other man simply grumbled something about Blue Label scotch.

Meg and Y/N stayed stiff as boards as Castiel cleaned a little faster. He took bottles from Meg first, so she could get away sooner. Meg gave him a grateful smile before running away like the devil was on her heels.

When he was ready, Y/N shoved the bottle of vodka into Castiel's arms before mumbling a goodbye to him. As she circled around the bar, heading for backstage, when she felt a hand on her arm.

Benny was at her side in practically an instant, before Y/N even had the chance to realize that it was Agent Singer who had grabbed her, stopping her in her tracks.

"What'd I say 'bout causin' trouble?" Benny nearly growled. "Hands. Off."

Bobby looked between Y/N and Benny before letting go of her upper arm. "Sorry, didn't mean to start anything. Just wanted to talk to her."

"Well, she's gotta go get ready for the show," Benny moved in between the cop and the singer, and she'd never loved the man more than she did in that moment.

"It'll only take a minute," Agent Singer argued, looking a little frustrated.

Benny looked back at her, silently asking her what she wanted to do.

With a minute shake of her head, he had whirled back around on the federal agent and smiled coldly. "Well, next time, come in earlier. Now, you can either sit there and let her go get ready, or you and your friend can leave. Your choice." Benny had an uncanny knack for sounding polite and gentlemanly whilst also making someone fear for their immortal soul.

The copper's jaw clenched, but, before he could say anything, his friend had placed a hand on his other arm. "Bobby, let the girl get ready. Lord knows I need a drink first."

Agent Singer grumbled, but nodded. "Fine, sorry, miss."

Y/N gripped the back of Benny's shirt, and he took the hint. He escorted her backstage, calling for Dean the moment the door was open.

The pianist came out a moment later, looking a bit confused. "Benny, what're you doin' back here?" then his hunter green eyes fell on Y/N. "Baby? What's wrong?" he rushed over to her, placing one hand on each of her cheeks.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Dean's middle, drawing in a shuddery breath as Benny answered. "Bobby and Rufus are here."

Dean entangled the fingers of his right hand in Y/N's hair, holding her tightly against his chest. His left hand wrapped around her shoulders as he nodded at Benny. "Alright, I'll go talk to 'em."

"You know how that'll look, brother."

"He can't blame me for talkin' to family, Benny."

Y/N tensed at that. Dean and Agent Singer were related?!

"He can blame you for anything and you know it."

Y/N pulled back. "Please, just…can't we just ignore him?"

Dean leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. He didn't say anything, just gave her an apologetic smile before letting her go and walking out front, leaving her with Benny.

She turned to the bouncer and begged him to go back Dean up.

Benny laughed, his blue eyes crinkling. "Dean can sure as hell handle himself. Cas is there, too. He'll be fine." He wrapped an arm around her, hugging her close. "Don't you worry 'bout Dean. He'll be fine."

She almost believed him.

Their performance didn't suffer that night, even though all Y/N could feel was the agents' eyes resting on her.

Dean hadn't come back from his talk with the agents until just a few minutes before they went onstage. She hadn't had a chance to talk to Dean all evening yet, and questions were burning within her.

However, a part of her didn't want to bother him. It had only been a month since that night where his entire past had been revealed to her, and perhaps he wasn't ready to share more just yet.

After all, they were just newly together. They would drive to and from Crowley's and, every night, Dean would try to find an excuse for her to spend the night. He hadn't had to help Benny with any extra work since that last time, so he'd come up with anything to get her to stay: Her motel looked unsafe. He couldn't find his way to her motel, so she might as well come home with him. He saw a spider in his apartment and needed her to protect him.

The excuses got more and more outlandish every night, and she was convinced that he was more trying to make her laugh than convince her to stay with him.

However, every night, she would shake her head and smile, claiming that she shouldn't, not until they could share a bed. He reminded her that he didn't mind the couch, but she would stop his argument with a kiss, and then all words would stop for a while.

Y/N had to shake those thoughts from her head. All those thoughts just raised her body temperature and made it harder for her to formulate coherent thoughts.

At the end of their first set, Y/N nearly pulled Dean off to a dark corner for them to talk. Gabe usually made jokes about the two of them needing some space, but, tonight, their usual jovial tone was on vacation.

When they got to the dressing room, Y/N whirled around on Dean. However, before the words could leave her, his lips crashed against hers. He pushed her up against the door they had just walked through, caging her in.

On instinct, her hands were immediately fisting themselves in his shirt, pulling him closer. She felt his hands encircle her, and, within no time at all, every one of her senses was consumed by Dean.

Then, her eyes snapped open, and she shoved Dean away. He pulled back, still holding to her tightly, a pout on his stupidly beautiful lips.

She frowned. "You bastard, you're not getting away that easy."

He laughed at that, letting his forehead fall against hers. "Worth a shot."

Her fingers intertwined behind his neck. "I just wanna make sure you're okay."

He pulled away just a bit so he could look in her eyes. "You don't have questions 'bout Bobby?"

"Oh no, I'm just dyin' to know." He nodded, seeming unsurprised. "But, with how I found out 'bout your past, I wanna have you tell me everything else when you're ready."

His fingers traced along her cheekbone. "How'd I get so lucky?"

She shrugged. "I have low standards."

"Thank God," he grinned as he leaned in, kissing her again. Where before, his kisses had meant to be passionate and distract her, this one was about simply being with her, the comfort and intimacy they shared in that moment.

There was a knock at the door, and Chuck's voice carried through, letting them know that it was nearly time to go back on stage.

Y/N disentangled herself from Dean to run to the mirror and reapply her lipstick before taking his hand and heading back onstage.

Finally, the night was over, and they were clearing up for the evening, preparing for another day.

The agents were still there, so Y/N made sure to stay by Dean's side as they got ready to leave.

Before they could, however, Crowley came out from his office. He walked up to the agents, giving his usual smile that was supposed to be welcoming, but usually just made people uncomfortable. Then again, it was entirely possible that was his intention. "Well, gentlemen, I hope you enjoyed yourselves tonight!"

Agent Singer turned to face him, but his expression didn't move from its usual gruff look. "The band was great."

The other man—she assumed that was Rufus—held up his glass. "You definitely got the good shit here, too."

"Only the best, of course," Crowley drawled. "And not to berate my own establishment, but I do wonder what brings two upstanding officers such as yourselves here this evening?"

Rufus raised his glass once more. "You got Johnnie Walker Blue. That's all I need."

"There are other bars, other nightclubs with that kind of scotch, Agent Turner."

"Other bars don't have a band like yours," Bobby said pointedly.

Y/N grabbed Dean's arm, her knuckles white. The pianist maneuvered himself in front of the singer as quickly and subtly as he could.

Crowley's hazel eyes fell on the couple, and he nodded. "Ah, yes. Family and all that, of course." There was a tense silence before he continued. "Well, as lovely as it's been to have you here, the bar is now closed, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave for now."

The agents stood. Rufus was halfway into his coat and out the door, but Bobby looked reticent, his eyes trained on Dean. Dean refused to make eye contact, instead focusing on Y/N's hand wrapped around his arm.

Y/N, however, met the older man's gaze. She gulped, but refused to break. She was shaking and she knew that Dean could feel it.

Agent Singer's gaze softened after a moment, and, suddenly, he was breaking her heart rather than terrifying her. None of the cops she'd met in her short time with the Chicago P.D. had shown any sort of humanity, seeming to her like cold, heartless robots.

Maybe it was the fact that he was related to Dean somehow, and the two obviously held great affection for each other. Maybe it was the fact that he looked so tired, yet still so determined. However, in that moment, Y/N's fear was lessened immensely.

Then the moment was over.

"Well, we'll have to come back another time then," Agent Singer said as he slowly stood up, shrugging his coat on.

"You're more than welcome to any time!" Crowley grinned a grin that never reached his eyes.

The tension in the room didn't even dissipate once they left. Everyone stood stock still until they heard Benny close and lock the front door behind the agents.

There was a terrible moment of silence before Crowley turned to them. Rage burned behind his eyes, and she had never seen someone's face so red in her entire life. Her hands drifted down his arm to Dean's hand, intertwining her fingers with his hand. He gripped it so tightly that she felt the tips of her fingers start to tingle from lack of blood.

Crowley took a deep breath through the nose before speaking in a terrifyingly even tone. "Who brought them here?"

Y/N wasn't sure where to keep her eyes. She feared that looking at Dean or Meg would bring Crowley's wrath down upon them. Then again, if she looked at the floor, she might look guilty. So, she focused on Crowley's tie, afraid to look him directly in the eyes.

The following silence was louder than anything they'd played that night.

Crowley straightened his back, running his hands over his suit jacket, trying to smooth it out. "Fine. I know who it was. Dean," he glared at the pianist. "You have an appointment with Benny. Now."

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, but Dean seemed to sense that. "He's family, Crowley."

"Family who has dedicated years to putting me in jail. Family you sat and chatted with about God knows what before the show. Forgive me for being skeptical." he growled back.

Y/N watched Dean's jaw clench, and, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Benny slump his shoulders almost imperceptibly.

"Please," she began. "Dean didn't invite him, Mr. Crowley."

"Oh? Why do you say that, dearie? Did you?"

"N-No, of course not! But, but Dean wouldn't put Sammy at risk like that!"

"Dean does a lot of stupid things. Like fuck the new chippy."

Dean took a step forward, but Y/N's ironclad grip on his hand kept him grounded enough before he did something stupid.

However, Crowley saw the step, and, in his mind, it was enough. "Benny! Here, now!"

Benny walked up to the rest of the group slowly, obviously trying to procrastinate. "Sorry, brother," he mumbled, just loud enough for them to hear. They all knew what was coming.

Dean gave a small nod to his friend—his silent way of forgiving the bouncer for what was about to happen—before turning to his girl and smiling softly.

She gave his hand a squeeze, desperate for some way to save both boys from this. Dean had to pry his hand from her grip before walking towards Benny, his head held high.

Benny turned to Crowley, who gave answered with a wave of his hand.

Before anyone could blink, Benny's fist connected squarely with Dean's jaw.

Crowley shouted, "Benny! Not the face!"

Benny swallowed thickly, before turning back to his best friend and slamming his fist into Dean's stomach. The sound of all the breath in Dean's body leaving him was one of the worst things Y/N had ever heard.

She wanted nothing more than to throw herself into the fight, stop the senseless beating, especially when Dean fell to his knees. She was a coward, though, and stayed stock still, tears flowing freely down her face.

Benny caught her eye at one point, and it just reminded her that Benny was also the victim in this. She smiled sadly, hoping to silently convey that this wasn't his fault.

"Come on, Benny," Crowley rolled his eyes. "I can tell when you're holding back. I've not heard a bone break yet."

Benny's shoulder slumped a little more, and he looked to his friend. Dean nodded, his jaw clenching.

Benny reared back, and Y/N hid her face in her hands, refusing to look anymore. The sounds of Dean's breath and blood leaving him still rung in her ears, and it was a thousand times worse to imagine what he was going through than to see it. After a moment, she let her hands fall, steeling herself to watch the beat down in front of her.

Finally, Crowley's voice rang out, "You can stop now, Benny. Still need him to play tomorrow night."

Benny was breathing heavily, his face red from exertion. He was staring at the ground like it held all of life's secrets. Dean was on the ground, his back to Y/N and his face covered by his hands.

It was silent, save for their heavy breathing, until Crowley spoke again. "Well, I found this to be quite enlightening, didn't you? Now, I won't see anyone speaking to either of our government's finest again, will I?"

The silence continued.

"Excellent. Oh, and don't let his blood stain the carpet," he added before heading into the back.