Dean is most definitely not on the side of the angels. He was quite literally supposed to be, once, but he's still not altogether sure that would have worked out any better for him in the long run. At least this way he had a choice that left him able to gain power, to be something other than a burnt out, useless husk after his purpose was served.

God, he hates supernaturals.

Indeed, she doesn't escape his notice for long. He is hunting, because that was what he once did, that was his career, that was his breath and his life, and it serves him well here. Dean pauses, his back straightens to his full height, and his eyes narrow as he searches visually for the giveaway, for what will tell him who - or what - he feels watching him. (He can hear her pulse.)

"Come on out."