The easy talks and laughter that usually filled their rides together was instead replaced with awkward silence.
Y/N pretended to be occupied by putting on her new loafers.
Dean pretended that he was incredibly focused on driving.
She needed to explain herself. She knew what it must've looked like, meeting up with that cop after the way she acted. Then again, why he had called the copper "Bobby?" She knew that Meg knew about him, but, the way Dean acted, it was as though they had once been close.
As they arrived at the club, she finally took a chance. She closed her eyes and began speaking. "I swear, I didn't go there to meet up with him."
Dean was silent, so she continued. "Meg and I ran into him yesterday, and that's why we left so quickly. I was scared of running into him again today. Meg told me what'd it look like, and I didn't—"
Her eyes snapped open when she felt Dean's calloused fingers intertwine with hers. She looked up at him, more than a little bit surprised.
He was staring at their hands, refusing to make eye contact. He must've noticed her look, though, since he squeezed her hand before letting go completely and getting out of the car.
She let out a sigh of relief, and followed him into the club.
It was about twenty minutes to show time, and Y/N was putting the finishing touches on her outfit for the evening. She had let her Y/H/C hair down in waves over her left shoulder and slipped into a deep forest green dress that she had fallen in love with (that definitely did not remind her of anyone).
She quickly folded her clothes, trying to keep them as wrinkle-free as possible for after the show, when she felt something mixed into the pile. She frowned, searching her white shirt and brown skirt separately. She finally found the offender after rummaging around in her pockets: a small, white, rectangular card.
Emblazoned on it was the emblem for the FBI, along with the name "Robert Singer" and some contact information.
Her hands began shaking so much that she could barely read the words.
She vaguely remembered him saying that he was a federal agent, but she had been so focused on not passing out that it hadn't clicked. This whole ordeal had been one thing when she thought him a local flatfoot, but, if the feds were involved…
A knock on her door had her shoving the business card into her cleavage before she could think. "C-Come in!"
Dean poked his head in a moment later. "You ready yet?"
She smiled, and she hoped it looked genuine. "How can a girl get ready with you pokin' your head in like that?"
He winked. "Well, next time, I'll just help you get ready."
She laughed, feeling a bit more at ease. "You just gotta play your cards right, Dean," she smirked as she breezed past him.
She didn't look behind her as she walked down the hallway, but she figured that he was a little taken aback by her forwardness, since it took a moment for her to hear his heavy footsteps follow her.
He didn't get a chance to snark back, however, as they met up with their bandmates. Gabe threw an arm around her shoulder, whilst Chuck rolled his eyes. Not a minute later, they were walking out to perform.
Y/N was sitting at the bar with Meg as the latter waited for her boyfriend to finish cleaning up. Conversation flowed between the three of them easily. Really, Y/N was lucky in that so many in the club were easy to get along with.
After about fifteen minutes of waiting, though, the waitress turned to the singer and said, "You're usually one of the first ones outta here. What're you waiting on?"
"Dean. Benny asked him for a favor before he left."
Cas sighed heavily.
"Cas," Meg warned.
"What?" Y/N frowned.
"I know Benny must do this, but I worry about Dean, that's all," the bartender explained. "He could hurt his hands, then what? I don't understand Crowley's thinking."
"Is Dean okay?" the singer gripped her drink tightly.
Meg groaned, letting her head fall into her hands. "Cas, he didn't want her finding out."
Cas nodded in understanding. "Ah, then I'll say no more."
"The hell you won't!" Y/N cried.
Meg let her head fall onto the bar, obviously annoyed, but silent.
Castiel looked to her for support, but found none. "If Dean doesn't wish me to tell you…"
"You're the one who brought it up, Cas."
His pleading blue eyes found hers. "Please don't ask, Y/N."
"Fine," she huffed as she pushed herself off the stool and away from the bar. "Then I'll ask Dean."
Castiel's voice rang out, trying to stop her; but Meg's soon followed, mumbling something that was definitely more than a little sarcastic.
Y/N practically stormed through the door towards the back, determined to find Dean. After searching the dressing and back rooms for a few minutes, she found herself walking down the hallway, towards Crowley's end of the hallway and near a door she hadn't seen before.
The door had no markings on it to tell passersby what its purpose was. Usually, when Y/N was back here, she was down at the other end of the hallway, in the dressing room or near the stage, so this was her first time seeing this specific door.
She might've even just walked past it, headed for the back alley or perhaps looping back to the front of the club, if not for the noises she heard.
Soft grunts and thuds could be heard coming from behind the door. She started blushing, but held her ear to the wood anyway.
Not that she was a pervert.
She was just curious.
Nothing wrong with that.
Now that she was practically one with the door, she heard voices. She could immediately pick out the condescending voice of their employer. A voice she didn't recognize was speaking the most, however. She could make out some words, like "please" and "sorry."
Her brow furrowed, and she strained to hear what she could.
"I'm not asking for a lot here, Mr. Morris," said Crowley. "I'm simply asking you to hold up your end of the bargain."
"I promise, I'm trying."
A heavy sigh was heard, and Crowley's voice returned, this time with more condescension. "I'm sure you are, but, well, I'm not known for my patience. Think of this visit with my minions here a little reminder of that."
Footsteps began making their way towards her, and Y/N nearly fell over in her hurry to run away.
She was halfway down the hall when she heard the door open, and she turned to face him.
His eyebrows raised slightly at seeing her. "What are you doing back here?"
"Oh," the singer thought quickly. "Um, I was looking for Dean. I saw him come back here, and I wanted to see if he was done with whatever he was doing."
Not a lie.
The club owner was still standing in the doorway slightly, which allowed Y/N the tiniest of peeks into the room. In there, she saw the large man who usually stood vigil in front of the club and who Dean considered a brother. She easily recognized Benny, and, in that moment of recognition, she knew that Dean was in there with him. Cas had said as much, and this was something that she would've wanted to keep hidden, too.
Crowley fully closed the door behind him at that. The sounds of fists landing and grunts of pain were immediately muffled. His dark eyes met her Y/E/C ones, and he answered, "He's not. Obviously."
She nodded, her eyes falling to the floor. "Oh. Okay. I'll just, uh, go wait back out there, then."
"How long were you listening, darling?"
Her eyes shot up. "Listening?"
He rolled his eyes. "Please, I'm not an idiot and neither are you. Drop the act."
Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, her eyes searching him for any sign of anger. "I…not long."
He nodded, then walked up next to her. He stopped when he was about to walk past her, and simply said, "Then you know not to cross me now, don't you?"
She nodded feverishly.
"Because, if you do, that'll be you, and I'll make Dean do it. Without Benny's help."
Her head snapped to her left, looking up at the man. His expression held a sadistic glee, immensely pleased with his idea. "And you know that he'll do it, don't you, darling? Because I own both of you, no matter what sweet nothings he's been whispering in your ear."
Her cheeks flushed, both from his words and her anger, but she simply clenched her jaw. "Understood."
"Good," he began walking away. "Get home safe."
She was stuck still in the hallway, listening to the muted sounds of the punishment from behind the door to just a little ways down the hall.
She squared her shoulders before turning on her heel and walking back out to the bar to wait for Dean.