She pulled her coat tighter around her, fighting against the biting winds. Her short heels clacked against the pavement as she cursed herself.

Of course she had to make a deal with Crowley.

Of course she had to go work for him to pay off her debt.

Of course he'd ask her to come in her first day at a godforsaken hour.

She pulled out the scrap of paper she'd written the address of the bar down on, checking it for the third time in about a minute, trying to make sure that she wasn't lost.

Y/N finally found the alley she was looking for, tucked away by a few legitimate businesses. She walked between the two buildings, the wind getting a bit stronger in the enclosed space. She turned the corner and saw the front of a beautiful nightclub. The name was written in elegant script above the black awning that covered a deep red door.

She walked up and rapped her knuckles thrice on the door. It took a moment before she heard it click open and was faced with the bouncer. A wide-set man made almost entirely of muscle appeared on the other side of the door. He smiled warmly at her, which struck her as odd for a bouncer.

"Hey, you must be the new girl," his voice was coated with a Southern accent and smooth like honey. A part of her melted a little.

She nodded. "Yeah, that's me. Name's Y/N." With that, she stuck out her hand.

His monstrous hand engulfed hers in a tight grip, and she prayed she wouldn't bruise. "Nice to meet ya. I'm Benny. I work the door. Come on it, it must be freezin' out there."

"Thanks," she mumbled, hurrying through the door the moment he stepped to the side.

"Can I take your coat?"

Y/N nodded once more. "Thanks." She shrugged it off her shoulders and handed the coat to him. He laid it over the coat check counter before saying, "Follow me, Miss Y/N."

She followed him through a short hallway that opened up into a beautiful, cavernous room. Her Y/E/C eyes scanned the room, trying to take it all in. She was slightly dazzled by the sight and, had it been a reasonable hour and had she been there to enjoy it, she would love to come here.

However, it was all tinted with the fact that she was forced into this position, which ruined the atmosphere for her a bit.

Benny and his kindness, however, gave her a bit of hope. Sure, everyone and their mother knew that Crowley was a bastard, but maybe her co-workers would be alright.

"Well, this is the main room. You'll be performin' up on that stage over there," he motioned, rather pointlessly, to the large stage towards the back of the room. "Behind the stage are a few dressing rooms and a few private rooms for select patrons."

Y/N flushed a little at that, but didn't let her voice waver. "Select patrons?"

Benny sighed. "Trust me, the less you know, the better."

She nodded. "Sounds about right."

He gave her a sweet smile at that before continuing with his semi-tour. "That over there's the bar. Cas runs it, but he ain't in yet. Meg comes in about nine—oh, she's the head waitress. She knows the other girls' names better 'an I do, so I'll have her introduce them all."

"What about the rest of the band?"

Benny cocked a thumb back towards the stage. "They should be back in their dressing room, but Gabe probably won't show up until show time."

"Wait, what?" she huffed. She had to be here at the crack of dawn, and one of her bandmates couldn't bother to show?!

Benny laughed at her reaction. "Yeah, Gabe takes some gettin' used to, but he's a good guy. Don't worry. Never heard someone make a sax sing like he does and he knows what he's doin'. Dean'll get you set up."

"And Dean is?"

"The best damn pianist in town." His chest puffed with pride. Obviously, they were friends. "Head on back, he should be waitin' for you."

Y/N smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Benny."

"Anytime, Miss Y/N."

"Ya know, just Y/N's fine."

"Whatever you say, Miss Y/N."

She sighed in an exaggerated manner at that, which made him laugh a bit as he headed back to his post.

Standing alone in the giant room, she felt a little more lonely without the boisterous presence of the Southern gentleman beside her. Her footsteps and her breathing were the only sounds in the room, and all it did was make her feel even more insignificant.

She walked through a door marked "Employees Only" and was met with a dark hallway filled end to end with exposed brickwork. She had to take a moment, but she quickly found what she was looking for to her right, back behind the stage.

She opened another door and was met with a mid-sized room filled with a few dressing tables, instruments, and racks of costumes.

What immediately caught her eye, though, was the man sitting on the other side of the room. His short, dirty blonde hair was sticking up at every angle, as though he'd been running his large hands through it. His broad back and wide shoulders were hunched over a small table where his pen flew across a scrap of paper.

He didn't seem to hear her enter, so she cleared her throat. "Um, hello?"

He started, obviously caught off guard, before turning around.

Of course he just had to be the most stunning man she'd ever seen.

He had a strong, straight nose the led to the most luscious lips she'd ever seen. With a square jaw and cheekbones sharp enough to cut with, she thought that he was perfect. Then she looked into his eyes. They were a shade of green she'd never seen before, and they were intoxicating.

He cocked a stupidly perfect eyebrow at her and asked, "Who're you?"

She squared her shoulders a bit, forcing herself to get it together, before she answered. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N, the new singer."

He frowned for a moment before realization dawned on him. "Shit, is it the twelfth already?"

She chuckled at that. "Yup, came after the eleventh like always."

He grinned at that. Damn, even his teeth were perfect. "I don't think a dame like you is gonna have any problems fittin' in around here."

She smiled at that, a genuine, excited smile. "So, Benny says you work the ivories?"

"I do," he nodded. "Better than anyone else—"

"In town. So he said," she finished.

He narrowed his eyes at her playfully, which made her smile even bigger. "Well, since you seem to know all about me already, maybe you can tell me somethin' 'bout yourself?"

"I'm really not at all interesting."

"I disagree."

She straight up flushed at that, not prepared for the sudden compliment. Were they flirting? Is that what she was doing?

She frowned, her brows furrowing together. "S-So, you working on something for tonight?" she stuttered out, ignoring the blush beginning to make its home on her cheeks.

He glanced back at his makeshift desk. "Yeah, I guess. Honestly, it's not goin' all that well."

"Let me see it."

His eyebrows rose at that, but he handed it over with no fuss.

"You a songwriter, too?"

"Oh, hell no. I was just makin' some changes so we could work it without one of us. Y'know, just in case."

"You're…you're trying to take out the drums?"

"You'll meet Gabe later, and you'll understand."

She giggled at that, and he smiled. "Everyone keeps warning me about him. I'm getting worried."

"Ah, he's harmless. Mostly. We just rag on him," Dean smiled. "C'mon, let's go see what ya got."

"I'm sorry, what?"

He laughed. "I wanna hear ya sing, doll."

She nodded, trying fruitlessly to hide her darkening cheeks. "Oh…that's alright, then."

"Should hope so. Then again, I'd always love to see what you're made of, if you're willin' to share, doll," he winked.

"You should be so lucky," she snarked back without thinking.

He was grinning like a child on Christmas morning as they walked to the stage. Dean cracked his fingers, probably readying them for playing.

Once they got to the stage, he held out his hand to help her up. She knew she shouldn't. She was already enjoying his company too much. Touching him might actually, physically break her. However, as she thought this all through, she reached her hand out to take his out of instinct.

Her smooth hand slid into his calloused ones, creating a wonderful contrast. As reticent as she had been to take it in the first place, she now found herself unwilling to return his hand to him.

They didn't separate until he walked up to the piano. He let go as he sat himself down, using his now-free hand to motion to the mic set up next to him. It was set up so that his back wasn't to it, so that he could watch the singer throughout the entire performance.

She sucked in a deep breath, preparing herself. "I've not had time to warm up, just so you know."

He shrugged. "Let's see how much you need it."

"Just wanna warn you, that's all." She mumbled, stepping up to the microphone. She ran a hand over it, the cool metal circle trying to wipe away the warmth that Dean's hand had given her. "Got a song in mind?"

He grinned. "Didn't know ya took requests."

"There's a lot you don't know about me." She had meant for it to come out seductively, but it instead came out rather sad.

If Dean picked up on it, he didn't let it show. "Well, then how about somethin' slow? Mood music, y'know?"

She nodded. "I got one."

He bowed his head slightly and moved his hand outward in a grand gesture, like he was asking her to walk through the door before him. "Whenever you're ready, sweetheart."

She took the microphone in her hands, smiling slightly to herself. She took a deep breath and began singing.

She had to be loud, as the microphone wasn't on yet, but she felt more comfortable singing with it in her hands. It made her feel like a real singer, not some imposter who'd been forced into the job.

She chose a slow bittersweet ballad. It was one she had loved a child and that had played often on the radio in the orphanage. If she woke up tomorrow deaf, dumb, and blind, and she'd still be able to sing this song. Her voice crooned the words out, filling the empty room and echoing back slightly.

When she finished and silence returned, she turned to the pianist.

The cool, confident pose he had taken when first sitting down was replaced a hunched over version of himself. His elbows were resting on his knees with his fingers interlaced. Dean was looked up at her like he was seeing a miracle.

Before either of them could say anything, the sound of slow clapping filled the room. They turned towards the main entrance, where the source was standing.

In a crisp, perfectly tailored and undoubtedly expensive suit, stood the owner of Crowley's. He was just a bit shorter than the six foot two Dean, with short brown hair and a matching beard. His default expression seemed to be smug, and his brown eyes sparkled with something akin to mischief.

His clapping stopped and his heads took their place in his pants pockets. "Fabulous, darling. Absolutely fabulous."

As Crowley began walking towards the stage, Dean stood slowly and situated himself between her and their boss.

Crowley seemed amused by this. "Oh, come on, Dean. What do you think I'm going to do?"

Dean's jaw clenched slightly, but he stepped to the side just a bit. He wasn't standing between the singer and the owner anymore, but he was still close enough to jump in if needed.

Crowley smirked, but chose not to comment. "It's lovely to see you again, my dear." He took her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles.

She tried not to let her nervousness show, squaring her shoulders and standing tall. "Pleasure's all mine, Mr. Crowley."

He let her hand go and she resisted the urge to wipe it on her skirt. "I doubt that, darling. I see you've already got Dean here wrapped around your finger. I can't wait to see you perform tonight."

"Tonight?" Dean frowned. "That won't be enough time for us to practice, get a good set ready."

"I prefer to learn by doing, don't you, Miss Y/L/N?"

Y/N swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "Whatever you say, Mr. Crowley."

"Exactly. Listen to her, Dean-o—she already knows the rules better than you."

Dean's jaw clenched. Without thinking about it, Y/N took hold of Dean's arm, placing one hand on his bicep and the other taking his hand in hers. He relaxed minutely. "I promise, Mr. Crowley, we'll do the best we can."

"I'd appreciate it if you could do the best of someone better."

She practically felt Dean's anger rolling off of him, and she squeezed his hand just slightly. She prayed she was helping. "We will."

Crowley smiled. "Wonderful. Can't wait."

And, with that, he turned on his heel and walked off the stage, heading towards the back. Even after he had disappeared backstage, Y/N and Dean remained silent a few moments longer.

"Sweetheart," Dean began quietly and seriously. "I'm flattered, but I can't play like this." He grinned lasciviously.

That was the moment Y/N realized that she was still holding onto Dean. She jumped back, practically landing on the other side of the stage. "I-I'm so sorry! I wasn't think—!"

He laughed, and it was as though Crowley had never come in the room to begin with. "Don't worry about it, doll."

Y/N smiled warmly, happy to see the original Dean make a comeback. "Well, good. Then we can start getting ready."

"Much as we can with half the band missing." He grumbled, sitting back down on his bench.

"I think we can handle it, don't you?"

He looked up at her and smiled softly. "Yeah, I do, actually."

She smiled, clapping her hands together. "Let's get started, then!"