Reflective Triangles

Summary: Sam and Dean try to help a woman who's lost nearly everything, but being Good Samaritans might cost them even more…

Sorry…

Chapter Five

Dean walked back into the living room. Night had fallen and with it the tension level in the house had risen exponentially. They all knew Kane would try something tonight. They just didn't know what.

Dean sat down in the chair across from Hannah. She was sitting on the sofa with her feet up, one hand absentmindedly rubbing her rounded belly. Sam was sitting in the other chair holding a paperback, though Dean doubted he'd actually read more than a page or two. His eyes kept moving over the words, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

Dean fought the urge to fidget. Sitting and waiting just wasn't his strong point. He eyed the duffel bag on the floor between him and Sam. They'd brought a small arsenal in from the car after their quick trip into town to get it, Hannah along for the ride this time.

Sam momentarily looked up from his book and frowned at him. Dean raised his eyebrows in question then guiltily realized he was drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair.

Dean cleared his throat. "Hannah, when does Paul usually… when do you usually see him?" Paul's sole concern was for Hannah's safety and they could put that to good use. Another set of eyes and ears. Not to mention that it would scare the crap out of Kane if he saw a man he'd killed six months ago.

"I never know," Hannah answered. "Paul is here for hours sometimes, other times only a few minutes."

"Have you ever seen any of the others?" Sam asked, giving up the pretense of reading and setting his book aside. "From the wreck?"

"Oh, no," she said with certainty.

"Not the ghost type?" Dean inquired.

"My family… my father especially, they would have accepted it."

"The accident?" Sam asked.

"Dying." She gave the barest of smiles, tinged with sadness. "Faith is a beautiful thing. When you are so certain there is more, something infinitely better waiting for you, then dying-"

"Is still dead," Dean said before he could stop himself.

Hannah looked at him and he could barely stand the pity he saw on her face. He didn't dare look at Sam.

Hannah turned, setting her feet on the floor so that she could look at him directly. "Then dying is all right," she said kindly. "It's not… good or… pleasant. It's painful and awful… but it's all right."

So many thoughts ran through Dean's head, each screaming to be heard that he had the ludicrous notion to cover his ears. Dying was... It was dying. It was gone. And as much as he would secretly hope that there was something better to go to, it was not here. When he'd been electrocuted, Marshall Hall had died to give Dean more time. After the accident, their dad had died to give Dean more time. They were gone. They'd died to give Dean more time to save Sam and then Sam had died. After all that had been lost… Dean alive and Sam dead. How was that supposed to be all right? He was just supposed to trust that Sam had gone to a better place?

Sam made a noise, so soft Dean barely heard it. Their eyes met and Dean fought not to flinch. So many emotions flashed across his brother's expressive face Dean could barely process it all. Sorrow, despair, anger, disappointment, worry, stark raving fear, sheer bravery, determination. It was everything that made Sam… Sam. And to have Sam with him giving him that look was the whole point of what Dean had done at the crossroads.

Yeah. Dying was still dead and Dean knew he would do it all again. Sam had faith and Dean had Sam. That was all right. He believed in Sam. Sam kept him alive and safe and sane. Dean needed him alive. Whatever he'd had to do to make that happen was worth it. The world was a better place with his brother in it.

Sam was glaring at him. Dean just gave him a lopsided smile. Sorry, Sammy. Just the way the cookie crumbled.

Sam's expression hardened and Dean plainly saw what was written there. Watch me, those eyes said. Watch me fight to the death to save you.

Maybe the demon hadn't lied and Sam wasn't 100 percent Sam. Dean would almost swear the kid had picked up a few Charles Bronson genes while he'd been down for the count.

They all looked up as Paul entered the room, his form moving silently across the floor. It was frankly creepy to watch. Dean's first instinct was to reach for Marigold, sitting in the bag beside him. After all, a ghost was a ghost and it wasn't supposed to be here. Dean left the sawed-off shotgun where she was though. Paul wanted to protect Hannah as much as they did and they might need him shortly. Still, Dean's fingers itched for the security Marigold offered. He just wasn't comfortable with having a ghost this close and doing nothing about it.

Paul moved toward Hannah carrying a steaming cup of tea. She sat up and accepted it gratefully. "Just what I needed," she smiled up at him. "Thank you." She clasped the cup in both hands and sipped from it. "Nothing like hot tea to soothe your jangled nerves."

"Don't worry, honey," Paul said. "I won't let Kane hurt you. He won't get the chance."

"I know you won't." She sighed contentedly as he sat down beside her and put his arm around her, drawing her close.

"Is your tea all right?" he asked anxiously. "Sometimes…" A frown crossed his face. "I can't remember…"

"It's wonderful," Hannah assured him and took another sip. "Perfect."

"I just want to keep you safe, to take care of you. You know that, right?"

Dean clenched his teeth. Ghosts. Single-minded didn't even begin to cover it.

They all sat quietly while Hannah sipped her tea. Dean kept the better part of his attention on his surroundings, listening for anything out of the ordinary. Sam was doing the same, although Dean occasionally caught him glancing his way. It was only to be expected after what Hannah had said. The deal. It was the elephant in the room and there was nothing he could do about it until… well, until there was nothing more to be done about it. Maybe they could fix it and maybe they couldn't. Either way, Sam was sitting beside him now. Sam was here.

Sam and Dean jerked to attention. Noise on the back porch.

"Paul, stay with Hannah," Dean ordered. He motioned for Sam to head toward the back of the house while he quietly slipped out the front door. He worked his way to the back, carefully peeking around the corner. He pulled the gun from his waistband and held it down at his side as he moved.

Kane was in the shadows, barely visible as he crept along the back of the house. Not exactly creative, but he was carrying a gas can again. Dean began to raise his gun and braced himself to turn the corner.

"Police! Stop right there!"

Dean froze, melting back into the shadows. The combined light of several flashlights illuminated the back of the house. Kane stood transfixed, blinded by the light, though Dean could see several police officers standing in the yard, their guns drawn.

"Down on the ground, Kane! Now!"

Kane looked both ways, dropped the gas can and then bolted off the porch. Dean heard the officers swear and then saw the flashlights bobbing as they gave chase. He didn't make it far. He barely got ten feet before one of the cops tackled him. In seconds it was over and Kane was in handcuffs being marched back toward the house.

Sam stepped out onto the porch and flipped on the outside light. Dean hurriedly put his gun away, hiding it beneath his shirt, and joined him.

"Everyone all right?" one of the cops asked. It sounded like Timmons again.

"We're fine," Sam called. "Hannah's inside."

Timmons stepped up onto the porch as the other two officers walked Kane toward the front of the house. "We've been taking turns watching him. We knew something was up when he left his house and headed this way." The officer shook his head in disbelief. "I think Kane's just lost it. He's been getting worse and worse and he's finally just lost it. He walked right up to the house, bold as you please."

"What now?" Dean asked.

"We'll take him in and charge him. To be honest though, he's going to be able to bail out before long."

"How long?"

"We'll be able to keep him for a few hours at least." Timmons scratched at his head nervously. "He's got plenty of money. He'll have the cash set up for his bail before we can even get the paperwork going."

"So he could be back here by morning?" Sam asked incredulously.

Timmons nodded. "He'll have to sign some paperwork saying he'll stay away from Hannah before we release him, but somehow I don't think that's going to stop him. He's just not thinking straight."

"Well, we're not going anywhere," Dean stated plainly.

"Dean, we can't stay here forever," Sam said, his brow creased with worry.

Timmons' radio squawked. Dean didn't catch the words, but Timmons nodded. "I need to go. The jail will call here when Kane's about to be released so you'll have a heads up. One of us will try to stay in the area too."

"Great," Dean said and received a glare from the officer.

"We're doing what we can. You two just keep your eyes open," Timmons ordered. "Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Dean nodded.

Timmons left them and Sam and Dean walked back into the house. Hannah and Paul were still sitting together on the sofa. The ghost's arms were around his wife and she was leaning into him, accepting the protective embrace.

"Kane's going to the big house," Dean informed them and Hannah relaxed visibly. "At least for a few hours."

"I can't say that I'm sorry," she replied.

"You should get some rest," Dean suggested.

Hannah smiled. "I will. But you two are the ones doing all the work. You should try to sleep while you can." She nestled closer into Paul's arms. "I think I'll stay here for a little while."

Sam and Dean nodded, though Dean couldn't help another uneasy glance in Paul's direction. They were going to have to deal with him as soon as Kane was taken care of.

"You let us know as soon as they call."

"Who?"

"Someone will call when Kane's about to be released from the jail."

"Don't worry, honey," Paul said, hugging her closer. "You're safe with me. Kane won't come near you ever again."

"Nice in theory," Dean said sharply. "They call while we're asleep, you wake us up. Got it?"

Paul ignored him, but Hannah nodded. "Go sleep. I'll be fine right here."

Dean hesitated and Sam tugged on his sleeve. "Give them some time alone, Dean," he said quietly. It might be the last Hannah would get if they took care of Paul. Dean sighed and turned to follow Sam toward the stairs.

"Thank you," Hannah said. "Both of you."

Dean woke and turned over, still groggy. He momentarily thought his ears were ringing. As his mind cleared, he realized it was a phone. They must be calling to tell them about Kane. The ringing was very, very distant and he realized the only phone was downstairs. After another ring it stopped and Dean assumed Hannah had picked up.

Dean reached over and elbowed Sam. "Rise and shine, Junior. We're on."

They had both slept in their clothes. Sam rolled out of the bed and together they hurried down the stairs. As they reached the bottom, the phone started ringing again.

Following the sound into the kitchen, Dean finally picked up. "Hello?"

"This is Jail Officer Chambers with the Sheriff's Department."

"Yes?"

"I'm calling to notify you that Martin Kane was released approximately 45 minutes ago."

"45 minutes?" Dean said angrily. "You were supposed to call before he was released." He turned around and looked at Sam. "Find Hannah. Kane could already be here." Sam nodded and hurried out of the room.

"We did call, sir," the voice on the other end of the line said, a hint of annoyance creeping in.

"I beg your pardon?"

"We've been trying off and on for the past hour, sir."

"Dean?" Sam called from the living room. His voice was higher than normal, a hint of panic. Dean dropped the phone in its cradle and strode into the living room.

Sam was kneeling beside the sofa where Hannah was lying on her side. Paul was standing behind them looking down at his wife.

Dean's eyes scanned the room and saw no immediate threats. "Sam, what is it?"

Sam turned and sat back on the floor heavily. Dean instantly saw why. They'd seen enough bodies in their lives that it was unmistakable. They knew dead when they saw it.

"She's safe now," her husband said. "Kane can't hurt her anymore."

"Paul, what have you done?" Dean asked, horrified.

"I saved her," the ghost answered.

The tea. The freaking tea. The empty cup was still sitting on the coffee table. He'd killed her.

Dean felt the blood drain from his face. "But the baby," he whispered, barely able to force the words out.

"It's all right. I made sure the baby's safe, too," Paul said.

Sam's eyes met Dean's. "It's too late. Dean, she's cold."

More tomorrow…