"So, why did I see Dean and you comin' in together?"

Y/N turned to see Meg suddenly behind her. They had been in the store for a good hour by this point, looking for shoes for the new singer to wear during performances. Meg had used an interesting choice of words to describe why Y/N's barely-held-together loafers weren't acceptable, and, shortly after entering, Y/N had gone looking for a new pair of loafers, whilst the waitress had thrown her arms up in defeat and gone to get the singer some new shoes.

It had been about two weeks since the new singer had joined Crowley's crew. Honestly, as much as Y/N was afraid of Crowley, and as much as he sucked the life and air out of room whenever he was around, the rest of the team had welcomed her with open arms.

Especially Dean.

They spent almost every moment together, what with the daily rides to and from her crappy motel room to the club. Then, once inside the club, she spent most of her time with the boys.

So far, Chuck had been nothing but nice, if a little neurotic, to her. She'd seen him lose him temper once or twice, which had been scary, but nothing too major. As long as he met with his Mistress Magda away from her, she had enjoyed her time with the man.

Gabe was harmless, all in all. He flirted with her, but he would easily find himself in another's arms by the end of the night. Dean sometimes gave him shit when he felt the flirting went too far, but, otherwise, he and Y/N were good friends.

Dean, however, was an entirely different story. He and Y/N were practically attached at the hip, often times no more than ten feet away from each other. The two would flirt, they would laugh, and usually found some seemingly innocuous reason to touch each other in practically innocent ways.

Today, though, was a girl's day. After her performance last night, Crowley had come out and given her a hard time about her terrible loafers under his beautiful dresses. He'd sent the two girls to the store and told them to bring back something acceptable, telling them to just put it on his account.

So, now here they were.

"What?"

"You and Dean have been coming in together every day. Are you two—?"

"No!" she flushed. "No, nothing like that. He just…he just wants to make sure I'm safe, that's all."

Meg grinned. "Oh, if that's all. Just wants to make sure his girl is safe."

Y/N huffed, glaring at the girl with her. "We're not…we're not going steady."

Meg laughed. "Give Dean some time. He can be a bit thick."

The singer giggled at that. "Well, he should move a bit more quickly, unless he wants Gabe to snatch me up."

Meg threw her head back in laughter. "Please, like Gabe could concentrate on one girl long enough."

"I guess I'll have to settle for Dean, then," Y/N sighed dramatically.

"Well, when you pick shoes like these," Meg snatched the sensible in both looks and price loafers that Y/N had picked out. "How can he resist?"

Y/N took them back. "They're fine." she mumbled, holding them to her chest.

Meg sighed heavily. "Alright, well, we can go, then. I've got a few pairs for you that'll match with your dresses."

Y/N thanked her, and the two walked to the row of cashiers. Meg put the heels on Crowley's account, practically whispering the name to the lady behind the counter, who blanched and nodded, scurrying away.

Y/N waited behind her coworker for the cashier to return. "Is everything okay?"

Meg shrugged. "Happens whenever we mention his name. She'll be back in a minute."

Y/N sighed. "How long does this usually take?" she asked as she watched the cashier talk to an older man, pointing back at them.

Meg frowned. "Not this long." Her eyes narrowed as she watched the exchange. She seemed to tense a bit, and Y/N could begin to feel anxiety roll off of her companion.

"Meg? What's wrong?"

"Shit."

Before another word could be said, the cashier and the older man were back behind the counter. The girl gave them a strained smile and told them that the shoes had been credited to the aforementioned gentleman's account.

The man however, had his brown eyes trained squarely on Y/N. She fidgeted slightly under her gaze. She suddenly felt Meg's calloused hand grip her arm. When she turned to the waitress, she was wearing a tight smile. "Thanks, but we need to go now."

"Meg, I've not bought my shoes yet." Y/N frowned.

"Get them later," she hissed to the singer.

"It'll only take a second," the older man said, his eyes not leaving Y/N.

The ends of Y/N's fingers began to tingle as Meg's grip started to cut off the blood to the rest of her arm. "Meg, my shoes are barely staying on my feet," she practically whispered to her companion.

Meg turned to her, something akin to fear in her eyes. "Please, Y/N, get them later."

The singer nodded slowly. "Al-Alright."

The older man took that moment to speak. "Here, give us the shoes; we can hold them for you until you return."

Y/N smiled graciously at the man as she used her free arm to hand him the shoes. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, thanks a lot. Let's go," Meg immediately began dragging her companion out of the department store before another word could be exchanged.

It wasn't until they were halfway back to Crowley's that they spoke. "Meg, think you can let go of my arm now?"

Meg dropped her arm like it had burned her, mumbling an apology under her breath. Then, she stopped in her tracks and thrust the bag of new shoes into Y/N's arms. "Don't mention that guy to anyone, got it?"

"That guy? You mean the manager?"

"Honey, he wasn't the manager. He's some copper that's been chasin' Crowley for as long as anyone can remember."

Y/N gulped audibly.

"He's bad news, alright? Don't mention him to anyone, no matter what, got it?" Meg stared down the singer. "We can't let it get back to Crowley."

Y/N nodded. "Yeah, got it."

Meg sighed heavily. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare ya."

The singer shrugged, but said nothing. She knew that Meg was only trying worried, scared about keeping them both safe. Plus, with her own experience with the police, she wasn't exactly chomping at the bit to jump into bed with them.

The girls walked back to the bar in silence, afraid to speak anymore on the subject.

It had been another fantastic show for the band. They were getting better and better with each show, and even Crowley had made an appearance during their performance (it had resulted in Y/N's first false note of the night), but had disappeared before the end of their set. The boys promised that, had he been waiting for them in the back, that would've been bad news.

Then came their nightly ritual: Chuck would go hit up Cas for another drink; Gabe would disappear into one of the private rooms with either a waitress, patron, or both; and Y/N and Dean would head off into the back to let her change out of her performance clothes.

When they met back up in the hallway, Dean frowned. "I thought you were getting new shoes today."

"I did. Don't you remember Chuck slapping Gabe over his comments about them earlier?"

"No, no, I mean, you still have your regular shoes. You were all excited to get new ones when you went out with Meg earlier. What happened?"

"I, uh, I forgot my purse when we went."

Dean frowned and, for a moment, she was sure he had caught her in her pathetic lie. Instead, he responded with, "Well, why don't I pick you up early tomorrow? We can go together, get you some new shoes."

"Oh, Dean, you're a real sweetheart, but—"

He shook his head, already moving towards the front of the club. "Doll, for as long as I've known you, you've been complaining about those shoes."

"So, what, you saying you're sick of hearing about it?"

He chuckled. "Obviously."

They both gave a warm good night to Benny as they walked out—the boys even stopped to hug for a moment—and then were in the car, headed home.

When they arrived at Y/N's motel, she took one step out of Dean's car and nearly tripped over her own feet. She had taken a step, but the shoe of her left shoe had been left behind.

Once Dean had stopped laughing, he was adamant about getting her new loafers the next day. "And none of that malarkey about these shoes still being fine, got it?"

Y/N frowned, but still nodded.

"Alright, I'll be by 'bout 11, then, take you over to the store."

"No!"

Dean started at that. There was no way he'd missed the panic in her voice or the way her hands were gripping the passenger side door hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

He spoke slowly but firmly, like she was a wild animal he was afraid of spooking. "Y/N, you gotta tell me what's wrong."

She sighed heavily. "I just…" she scrambled. "I just don't want to bother you. I'll just walk down myself in the morning."

"You aren't ever a bother, doll." He spoke softly.

She frowned. Honestly, she knew she was just being paranoid. Meg had scared her with their talk earlier that morning, and she was taking out her fear on Dean now.

So, instead of fighting him again, she conceded, taking solace in the fact that she'd at least have Dean beside her.

He finally smiled at her with her concession, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Before he drove away, he wished her sweet dreams and only laughed a little bit when she began to walk away in her broken shoes.

Of course he'd pick this department store.

Y/N held her head in her hands, her elbows resting on knees. When Dean had asked, she had blamed the position on the fact that she was exhausted.

"You got me up so early, Dean!"

"Doll, you act like it's dawn."

"It is for us!"

"I apologize. Next time, I'll give you a reason to be so tired." He'd earned a smack on the arm for that retort.

However, he had picked her up at eleven, as he promised, and drove her to the same exact department store she'd visited with Meg the previous day.

It shouldn't have surprised her really—where else did she think he was going to take her? Not the biggest department store within twenty miles?

She thought hard. What were the chances that agent was still there? Even if he was, all she had to do was grab her shoes and get out. Just be quick, and everything would be fine.

He'd parked and began to get up and out before Y/N spoke up, "You know, you don't have to come in with me, Dean."

"Not a big deal."

"I have some shoes I set aside yesterday, Dean, so I'll only be a second."

Dean frowned. "I can get a few things while we're here, anyway."

She sighed.

A twinkle entered Dean's moss green eyes, and his stupidly perfect lips pulled back in a smirk. "Unless you're gettin' something special."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Uh huh," he nodded, the smirk getting bigger. "I bet. Just like you definitely don't know about the lovely lingerie section that is in this store."

"Shut up," she huffed, ignoring her growing blush and climbing out of the car herself. "Fine, go get whatever you're buying, and I'll meet you back here."

"You sure you don't want me with you? I mean, I'm kind of a connoisseur with 'nighttime attire,' and—!"

"I'll see you later!" she said in an octave higher than usual as she scurried into the store, leaving a laughing pianist in her wake.

The store, shockingly, hadn't changed much in the twenty four hours since Y/N had last visited. She found her way back to the women's shoe section, searching around for anyone to help her.

She finally found someone who worked there, a petite brunette with big, brown puppy dog eyes. "Excuse me?"

The girl turned with a smile plastered all over her face. "Yes, ma'am? How can I help you?"

"Um, I was here yesterday, buying shoes and a pair was set aside for me to pick up."

"Ah, alright, well, follow me," the store worker began leading Y/N over to the cash registers. "Name, please?"

"Y/N Y/L/N."

The girl looked around the area, her frown becoming deeper as she continued to find nothing. "I'm sorry, but I don't have anything here."

The singer furrowed her brow. What other name could—?

Oh. Shit.

"Um," she began, drawing the worker's attention back to her. "It…It might be under another name."

"Oh? Okay, well, what name, then?"

Y/N leaned in and whispered the name, "Crowley."

The store attendant blanched, just as her coworker had done the day before. "O-Oh."

The singer frowned. "Look, it won't go on Crowley's account, I'm paying for it myself, so if you just get me the shoes, we can get through this quick."

The attendant fidgeted. "Well, I'm supposed to let the manager know—"

"Please, it won't be on Crowley's credit, and it's only a pair of shoes. I'm begging you."

"I can't risk my job ju—"

"Don't worry about it, Winnie, just ring her up."

A large, calloused hand landed on the singer's shoulder, and she froze. She turned slowly to see the older man from yesterday standing behind her, a stern look on his face. "I need to borrow the lady for a minute, so you can just ring her up."

The girl—Winnie—nodded nervously and ran off to the back, probably to get the shoes.

Y/N's hands began shaking, and she held her own hands to try and hide it from the officer. "Thanks for the help, but, I, uh, I really am in a rush, and—"

"Name's Robert Singer. I'm a federal agent. Though, I'm guessin' Meg told you that part." he began.

She couldn't look him in the eye, so she turned her head back to face the cash registers.

His hand tightened slightly. "We do know who you are, Miss Y/L/N. And we know how to came to work for Crowley."

She stiffened at that.

"Now, I'm not here to bring you in. I can't—Crowley made sure of that—but I just wanna talk."

"I have someone waiting for me, Mr. Singer," she began slowly, trying to keep her voice as even as possible.

There was a moment of silence, before he answered. "Well then, I ain't got a lot of time. Listen, we've been trying to take down Crowley for a long time now, but we need one of you to help us."

"No."

"Please, you know how he works, Ms. Y/L/N."

"And you know what'll happen to me if I welsh on our deal."

He chuckled a bit at that. "Ms. Y/L/N, you're talkin' to a federal agent. Don't you think I could get your charges dropped, too?"

The thought had crossed her mind. "I don't think Crowley to be the kind of man who takes betrayal lightly, Mr. Singer."

He sighed, the heavy breath brushing aside the loose hairs at the top of her neck. "Ms. Y/L/N, please. He can't be left to do what he wants. Just, take my card and prom—"

They heard a throat clearing beside them, causing both heads to turn to the interruption. There stood Dean, with several new shirts draped over his left arm. His fists were clenched tight enough to whiten his knuckles, and he wore an uneasy expression on his face, like he wasn't sure how to feel at the moment.

Mr. Singer sighed heavily. "She's with you, I'm guessin'."

Dean nodded curtly. "Yeah. Sorry, Bobby, love'd to chat, but we're gonna be late. C'mon, doll."

Y/N practically ran towards her pianist, taking his free hand in hers and squeezing it for dear life. He squeezed it back just a bit too hard, but she kept her flinch down.

Mr. Singer smiled sadly, but nodded. "Alright…Winnie, you can come out now."

With that, the attendant seemingly materialized from thin air, holding the box of shoes. She looked down, refusing to make eye contact. Y/N paid for the shoes with only her free hand, which made the exchange all the more awkward.

The moment she held her new shoes in her hand, Dean was practically pulling her back towards the exit. As she struggled to keep pace with him, she prayed that this one moment wouldn't ruin everything.