#knowing him he probably knew plague was an impressive enemy so he opt to side with the new guys instead

[thisghosts-obsessions-again]

I'm pretty sure it was a calculated move on Malbonte's side, also he's not that unfeeling to those he does care for 👉👈

[iwantthedean]

Promised Land

Summary: Dean separates himself from Sam and Castiel while they search for a solution to The Darkness, and meanwhile crosses paths a fellow hunter he has never gotten along with. Pairing: Dean x OFC Word Count: 2215 Warnings: Language, implied smut. 

A/N: This is my entry for Mimi’s (@deansdirtylittlesecretsblog​) Trope Challenge. My trope is ‘enemies to lovers.’ It will eventually be a choppy sort of mini-series, but I wanted to try and get at least one challenge in on time, even if I’m cutting it close! So here is the first part. Side note, if you read Angeles, this is the story I imagined for Dean and the reader’s character during that story. If you haven’t read Angeles, you can still read this and not be lost at all. 

I've done my best to live the right way I get up every morning and go to work each day But your eyes go blind and your blood runs cold Sometimes I feel so weak I just want to explode Explode and tear this whole town apart Take a knife and cut this pain from my heart Find somebody itching for something to start

-- Bruce Springsteen, ‘Promised Land’

“This is my case, Israel,” Dean said quietly as he approached the woman sitting at the bar.

She rolled her eyes, as he expected her to do, and ordered another round for herself. She told the bartender to put Dean’s next drink on her tab, then kept quiet.

“I’m serious,” Dean said, this time a little louder. “I need this.”

Israel snorted. “You need this? You’re going to trail me to this POS bar – and don’t act like you just conveniently ran into me here, I know better. Way better. This is nothing but a slice-and-go vamp case, and the way I hear it, you and Sam have bigger fish to fry.”

She downed her second drink then, wished Dean a good night, and scooted off the bar stool. Dean watched her make her way through the crowded bar, and anger welled up in him. In all the years he had known Israel, nothing was ever easy with her. She was as stubborn as they came – then again, so was he. Regardless of that point, there was some kind of storm every time they crossed paths.

“You are a pain in the ass, you know that!” They stopped in the middle of the parking lot, Dean’s hand with a tight grip on her upper arm.

Israel shrugged his arm off and chuckled; her amusement with the situation angered him even more. “So you’ve told me, several times before. This is my case, Winchester. You want to help decapitate some vamps, you’re more than welcome. My guess is you’d rather become a vamp – again – than work with me though, so I guess I’ll see you around.”

She slid into her car then, that sleek old-school Dodge Charger that Dean had always been secretly impressed with, but never dared to tell Israel that. The engine roared as she drove away, leaving Dean to contemplate if he was going to keep trying to convince her to leave it alone or go back inside for another drink. He opted for the latter.

 In the morning, he woke up hungover and feeling as though a layer of sweat was covering his entire body. Dreams of Amara had plagued his sleep the entire night, leaving him with hours of restless sleep. He showered and got dressed, then checked his phone, ready for his daily check-in with Sam.

Something came up. Have fun on the vamp case.

Frowning at his phone, Dean read the message again, and checked the number it was from. Yes, it was actually from Israel. Still trying to figure out what could have come up that she would have abandoned a hunt for, Dean went ahead and dialed Sam.

“Hey, Dean. How’s the vamp case?”

“Uh, taking a new turn, actually. Listen, Sammy, is there any way you can find out where Israel’s at right now, without her knowing that I’m looking for her?”

Sam paused for a moment. “Probably. She still have the same number?”

“Are you kidding me? She’s a dumbass about that, she always has the same phone and the same number.”

“Nice to see you two still hate each other,” Sam chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll see what I can dig up. Need help on this case? Cas and I can –”

“No. I’m good. You and Castiel keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll keep my distance. We agreed this was best, remember?”

Sam nodded, though Dean couldn’t see him. “Yeah, I remember. I’ll, uh, keep you updated about Israel.”

“Thanks.”

Dean ended the call and started packing up his things. He wasn’t ready to check out of the hotel yet, but once those vampires went down, it was probably he was going to need to get out of town quick.

 Although it was normally months if not a year or so between meetings with Israel, Dean crossed paths with her again just a couple of weeks later. They showed up at the same police station at the same time to question about the murder of several well-to-do businessmen in the area.

Israel smirked, that same smirk she always had when she knew that he was irritated with her for one reason or another. It irritated him even more.

“We can’t really have a knock down drag out in this parking lot, so you’re going to have to make a quick choice. I gave you the vamp case –”

“Much to your convenience,” Dean interjected.

“—so you’re going to leave me with this one.”

Dean took a deep breath and looked around. “How about you tell me where you had to go in such a hurry that you let me take that other hunt, and I’ll consider letting you take this one?”

“You mean after you had Sam track me, he didn’t tell you where I was at?”

Dean looked shocked for a moment and Israel took his hesitation to her advantage and headed into the police station. Dean cursed and pulled his phone from his pocket as he got back into the Impala.

“I thought you were going to tell me when you found Israel,” he nearly-growled at Sam.

Sam cleared his throat. “Right, well, she was unavailable to do that hunt with you and it was a personal thing. She wasn’t in any danger, so I let it go.”

Dean frowned, his free hand on the steering wheel. “But you do know where she was?”

“Yeah, I know.” Sam gave Dean the information he had, and once Dean was in the know, he decided he would have done the same thing in Israel’s position.

That didn’t mean, however, that he was going to let her just take this hunt from him.  

 An old-school stakeout on foot got Dean enough information to figure out what motel Israel was staying in. He would have much rather driven, but figured she knew well enough to spot the Impala from miles away.

The Charger wasn’t in front of her room, so he picked the lock on the door and let himself inside. Wherever she was, she had been dumb enough to leave her laptop and all of her notes on the case right out in the open. Dean took a seat at the table where Israel’s things were laid out and started reading through her notes.

She had managed, it seemed, to get quite a bit of information from the police about the men who had been killed. She was mapping out their connections, and just when it seemed that Israel was on to something, it all stopped.

“What the hell …” Dean whispered under his breath.

He searched through the paper pages strewn over the table, but the before he could process anyone else was in the room, he was on the floor in a chokehold.

“Are you kidding me?” Israel seethed. “Breaking and entering isn’t a new offense for you, Dean, but I never thought I’d be the victim of it!”

Israel was quicker and perhaps stealthier than he was, but Dean was stronger. He took hold of the arm around his neck and peeled it away, holding tight to her wrist. He maneuvered so that he was kneeling over her, sure that he looked absolutely idiotic trying to grab for her other arm while Israel waved it back and forth out of his reach. He made a lunge for her free arm but she dodged him, socking him across the chin instead.

Dean groaned as he rubbed his chin and tasted blood on his tongue. Israel stood to her feet and made to kick him, but Dean hooked his arm over her knee and dragged her towards him. That was a mistake, since she was able to throw and connect two more punches at his face before he threw her over his shoulder.

“Enough, Israel!” Dean bellowed as she kicked and punched at him before he dropped her onto the bed. “Enough!”

She stood from the bed and shoved him away. “Tell yourself that, you mother fucker! You broke in here and Lord knows you were going to steal my research and my hunt!”

They were both breathing heavy; Dean took a moment to really look at her. The overhead light was dim, so he sidestepped to the bedside lamp, holding his hands up in surrender so Israel knew he wasn’t coming at her, and turned the lamp on.

“What the hell happened to you?” Dean asked, his voice far more gentle than any tone he had ever used with Israel before.

She cleared her throat and self-consciously ran her fingers over her split lip. Her face was beginning to swell, from some kind of beating, and there were bruises around her neck. Her clothes were sullied with dirt and grass and leaves. Dean guessed there were more injuries he couldn’t see.

Israel cleared her throat as her breathing slowed. “You probably saw that my research came to an abrupt stop. I figured it out. There was a coven of witches, hired out to kill cheating businessmen. They all had the same mistress. She’s safe now. She’s definitely a whore, but she’s safe.”

Dean frowned. “And the witches?”

That haughty smirk that he couldn’t stand to see graced her beaten face. This time though, Dean felt something tighten in his chest at the sight of her smirk and shining eyes.

“I said there was a coven of witches. I didn’t get all these injuries just trying to take ‘em down.”

“Well, I guess I should thank you for taking that over. Witches are definitely not my favorite.”

“I know,” Israel nodded.

They stood awkwardly for a few moments before Dean came forward and reached out to wipe away the blood from her chin with the pad of his thumb. Israel hissed in pain.

“Sorry,” Dean winced, “I thought it was blood from your lip.”

“It’s all right. I would have thought the same thing. Didn’t even know my chin was banged up.”

Dean inspected it a little closer; he could see her shoulders tense from the corner of his eye. “You need stitches. Three or four, probably.”

“Great,” Israel sighed. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip before looking up at him. “You have somewhere to be, or you want to help a fellow hunter out? You know, since you did break in here and you planned on stealing my case.”

It was Dean’s turn to smirk. “I thought you got me back for that by attempting to beat the shit out of me?”

“Attempting?” Israel teased, wiping over his cheek and coming back with a trace of blood on her hand.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Have a seat, tell me where your first aid stuff is at. I’ll stitch you up, then be on my way.”

 Although she didn’t want to admit it, Israel appreciated Dean staying behind and stitching up her chin. It ended up requiring five stitches, and the angle would have been too awkward for her to do it herself. He surprised her, though, by cleaning up the dried blood from the rest of her face and fixing her up with an ice pack for her lip.

His hands were gentle as they mended the cut on her chin and examined her split lip. While he checked out the rest of her face, Israel got a good look at his eyes for the first time in a while; she had forgotten how green they were. Perhaps Dean Winchester was a stubborn jackass ninety-nine percent of the time, but she realized she hadn’t known anyone as long as she had known him. That happened in the hunting life though, so she tried not to think too much of it.

“You should get yourself some ice, too. For where I decked you.”

Dean shrugged. “I’ve taken a few licks in my day. You should get in the shower, take one as hot as you can stand it. It’ll help with the sore muscles over the next few days.”

“I know the routine,” Israel said, standing from the chair. “I’ve taken a few licks in my day, too.”

Dean nodded. The silence that surrounded them this time wasn’t so much awkward as it was full of tension. Israel had always figured the years of hate and bickering were building up to something with Dean, but she assumed neither of them would ever live long enough to see it play out.

He sauntered towards her and ran his knuckles down his jawline. “If I said I needed a shower too and suggested we save water and shower together, would you deck me again?”

Israel’s mind was racing far too quickly to conjure up a spoken response. Instead, she looked up at him and shook her head. When she was finally able to speak, she took another step, closing the gap between them entirely.

“I’m already pretty sore,” Israel admitted. “Maybe you could help me get undressed?”

With his eyes locked on hers, Dean reached for the hem of Israel’s plain t-shirt and slowly pulled it over her head. Before the garment hit the ground, his lips were pressing against hers, eager and wanting, yet mindful that he had just cleaned up her split lip. He pushed her back towards the bathroom, the both of them shedding their remaining clothes as they went.