Even though she's used sleep as an excuse to escape from the meeting, she'd not been able to rest for more than twenty minutes at a time.

When Dean rolled around at noon as he usually did, she would've been surprised if she'd slept an hour in total.

The moment she sat down in the car, Dean's hands were cupping her face, forcing her Y/E/C eyes to meet his green ones. "Hell, did you get any sleep last night, doll?"

She shook her head, taking Dean's hands in her own. "No, but I'm fine. Was just thinkin', that's all."

"Thinking?"

"Yeah."

"That can't be good."

She laughed at that, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. "Nothing too terrible, I promise."

He looked unconvinced.

She let her jaw hang uselessly for a moment before speaking again. "I know I was acting weird yesterday, but you need to know that it wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything."

He remained unconvinced. "I…I didn't do anything?"

"No, nothing, Dean."

"Son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath, running a hand over his mouth in frustration.

"Dean, I swear, I—!"

The roar of the engine cut her off and he refused to look at her any more. He didn't look at her as he pulled away from the curb, nor during their commute to the club, nor when they finally arrived. He didn't take her hand as they walked in, barely said a thing to anyone, and ran back into the dressing room the moment he could

Castiel sent a confused look from his post at the bar, which Meg quickly vocalized. "What's his problem?"

Y/N sighed heavily. "Nothing too bad, hopefully."

That was enough to silence them, though they remained dubious (as made obvious by the frown on Cas' face and the eye roll from Meg).

Gabe and Chuck filed in, commenting on the lack of their pianist, but otherwise happy to give him his space.

It wasn't until the doors opened and the set began that things took a turn.

Dean hit the wrong note in the first bar of their first song. In fact, for the entirety of that first song, it was as though he had never seen a piano before.

After that disaster, Y/N pulled Dean aside, leaving Gabe and Chuck to try and entertain by themselves. She had to practically drag him backstage and, the second they were alone, she whirled around on him. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine. Ribs hurt a little, but that's it."

She took his hands hands in hers. "Didn't bother you last night."

"Well, I'm sore from playing yesterday. Obviously."

"Don't feed me a line, Dean. If you don't wanna talk about it, I won't make you, but, please," she begged. "Don't make me watch you get hurt again."

His jaw clenched and she worried that she might've said the wrong thing. Then he simply gave her a curt nod, and they headed back out.

For the rest of the evening he didn't hit another sour note, though he never played to his full potential. Worried looks were exchanged all throughout the night between not only the band members, but every member of their little family.

At the end of the night, they all separated as though they were strangers with not a word exchanged between them.

The boys were out within minutes, each claiming to have an appointment they simply could not miss. The bartender and waitress had disappeared after they had said their good evenings, eager to leave the awkward atmosphere that had permeated through everything all night.

This left only the pianist, singer, and bouncer.

"If you'd prefer, I can walk back to my hotel tonight."

"No, it's fine."

Benny had thrown a pitying look to the singer at that. She had responded by leaning down to press a kiss to Dean's temple (for he still had yet to look her in the eye) and walking off to the dressing room to change.

She was in and out rather quickly, eager to return to Dean, even if he was acting like a ninny. She walked down the empty, silent hallway, stopping before she went back into the main room. Her eyes didn't leave the other end of the hall, but her mind wandered.

It wandered down the pristine floors, down and around the corner to the beautiful dark oak doors that marked the entrance to Crowley's private office. She imagined opening the doors, revealing a torture chamber, with flames dancing around and filled with the screams of his victims.

That image snapped her out of it. She shook her head, as though she had to physically get rid of the image. Another night, she decided. I can't do this all in one day.

With that, she silently pushed open the door to the main room.

At the bar sat Benny and Dean, unmoved from where she had left them. The bouncer was facing her direction, but his clear blue eyes were focused on his friend. They were speaking just quietly enough for her to be unable to make out what they were saying. Concern was etched into Benny's features, and it worried her.

She tiptoed towards the friends, hoping to eavesdrop just a bit on their conversation.

Unfortunately, the moment she moved, Benny's gaze found her. He bowed his head in a silent greeting before turning back to Dean. "Speakin' of your girl."

Dean turned to face her, a storm of emotions flashing over his face much too quickly for her to catch.

She smiled warmly, wrapping an arm around Dean's shoulders when she was close enough. He didn't lean into her, and she tried not to worry about that. "Talkin' 'bout me? Well, Benny, you know that Dean's a filthy liar."

"He said nothin' but good things."

"Which only proves my point."

Benny laughed at that as he stood. "Well, brother, I leave you in good hands."

"Sure you don't wanna come back to mine for a nightcap?" Dean tried. "We haven't seen each other outside-a Crowley's in a long time."

Benny frowned, seemingly annoyed with his friend. "Think I'm not the one you should be talkin' to. Rain check, brother." With that, he turned to Y/N, wished her a good night, and headed for the door.

Y/N sighed heavily as Dean stood, throwing back the last of his whiskey as he did so. He hadn't looked at her yet.

She huffed in annoyance. "Would you prefer I take a cab?"

"Whatever you're comfortable with," he muttered into his glass.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Okay, what did I do?"

"Nothing."

"Then what's got you so wacky?"

He finally turned to look at her then, his eyes wide. "What?"

"You've been in a mood all day. You won't talk to me or anyone, and you're worrying everyone. Either talk to somebody about it or stop being such a fat-head!"

His hunter green eyes were open enough to nearly pop out of his skull.

Silence hung over them. After letting it rest for a moment, Y/N put her head in her hands. "Dean, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for whatever I did, for—!"

"You're not mad at me?"

Now her eyes widened. "What? Why would I be mad at you?"

A slight smattering of pink made its home on his cheeks. "Well…yesterday, we were gonna finally…have a bit of fruit, then Sammy called, and, for the rest of the day, you were off. You didn't join us in making fun of Chuck when he tripped over his bass and nearly fell off the stage, just helped him up. You were quieter than usual and…and you went back to your motel. I thought I had…pushed you too far."

Watching him so worried, so nervous, so not-Dean was doing things to her. The man who was so confident—bordering on cocky—was suddenly like a child in front of her, afraid that he had done the wrong thing and desperate to make it up to her.

She took his hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "I'm so sorry to worry you, Dean. I was just…you didn't do anything wrong, I swear."

He pulled her into a tight hug, as though she was going to try and run away. "We can wait forever, sweetheart, I promise."

She shook her head (as much as she could with her face buried in Dean's chest). "I was simply in my own head too much yesterday. I'm sorry I didn't notice. You did nothing wrong. I promise I'll try not to make you wait too much longer."

He pressed a firm kiss to the crown of her skull. There was a long, pregnant pause before he spoke again. "Does that mean you'll come over tonight? I just…I sleep better with you nearby."

She pulled away, smiling softly. "I'd like nothing more."