Chapter 32

She sure is taking her sweet time, Dean thought to himself and waited for her to walk through the door. Sheehan would be getting out any minute and they still had a lot of bases to cover if this was going to work. Come on, come on, come on already!

Nadia had been sitting on the bathroom floor, hugging her knees, for almost fifteen minutes before she finally talked herself into getting up. Okay so it wasn't so much herself as it was Aidan, but that was a moot point at the moment. She reached over the side of the tub and turned on the water. Always the shower, she mused and watched the water run gently through he fingers. She'd taken solace in the shower after the near-rape and the first full-on, Aidan assisted murders and she always fell asleep on the bathroom floor after a horrific dream or mass homicide. It was quiet and small and cool; and because of that, it felt safe. It took awhile before she realized that the water was ice cold and her fingers had gone completely numb. She was about to reach for the hot water knob, when it started to turn by itself. She was startled by how second nature and unconscious using her abilities was becoming. There's your sign, she mumbled dryly in her head. You know you're a freak when... Aidan just barely kept her mouth shut but Nadia could feel her roll her figurative eyes.

She climbed into the tub and pulled up the stopper on the faucet so that the water rained down over her. She felt as if she could feel her body drinking in the warmth and she let it run over her face for a long time. She felt numb and lost and too angry to cry. She turned around and let the water hit her back as she washed up, completely on autopilot. Once the last of the conditioner was rinsed from her hair, she twisted the water knobs off and flung open the curtain. Clumsily, she stepped onto the towel she'd laid out on the floor. She caught her reflection in the mirror straight in front of her and stared back at herself. She could see the agony in her own eyes, and she wondered why Dean couldn't see what was plainly there? Why did he seem to insist that she was no longer who she had been? Or that she had somehow, through Aidan, learned to tolerate or even enjoy taking the lives of those she had? With every new question that ran through her mind-both from her and Aidan-she grew more and more angry with herself and with Dean. Something flashed through the eyes of her reflection and before she knew what had happened, the mirror snapped into a massive spider web of fine cracks from corner to corner.

A very thin thread of pain ran from her hand and up her arm; but its effect was too muted by the rage that still flooded through her to really be felt. She stared down and watched the blood run across the back of her hand and drip onto the floor. She was vaguely aware of the tickle of water drops sliding down her body and mixing with the red droplets at her feet. She was overcome with the exact opposite feeling of that which she'd had on the street just an hour ago. Instead of being incapacitated with ear piercing sound, she felt as if the entire world had ceased to be. There was nothing but silence engulfing her.

Nothing had changed since Sam had left him sitting in that 70's style, puke green chair and staring at the papers they'd spent hours studying and deliberating. The room had grown considerably darker but the images still looked back at him, lit by the faded light coming through the window over his shoulder. The case didn't feel over, it didn't even feel normal; or as normal as their cases usually were. A good and loving housewife had turned into a vengeful serial killer all because she'd lost her family. He laughed sardonically to himself as he realized the similarities between his life and Rebecca's. If his mother's killer hadn't been something supernatural, would he have turned out the same way? Then he thought about the other hunters who were too focused on ridding the world of boogey monsters to see that if they ever completed their task, they were too far gone to ever enjoy it. What were they working towards? For themselves? For all the other sad sacks out there guzzling shots and making fools of themselves with girls they really didn't want for more than a few minutes anyway? Happiness was never going to come for them; heck, happiness was never going to come for him.

Sam's words ran through his head then. The ones about how much he'd changed because of Nadia and his question, "Are you really this screwed up?" Dean blew air through his lips and rubbed his hands over his face. Would you care? Of course he would care if anything happened to Nadia; that was a stupid question. He cared, he always would.

The crash was so unexpected, that Dean glanced around himself in confusion before rising to his feet. Realizing that the sound had come from the bathroom, he hurried over to the door and threw it open. Nadia stood in front of the sink completely naked. He looked her over involuntarily; her time away definitely hadn't been bad for her physique that was for sure. Their nights together, nights he'd blocked out ever since he'd seen her again, came rushing back and his heart sped up. She didn't even seem to have noticed him and he checked her over more closely. The way her hair clung to her back and face, just like those nights were they'd been so close, so lost in each other that his world didn't even matter. Water droplets glistened all over her body and he thought of that time in the shower in Montana... Something was off though and he shook his head to clear it. Only a split second had passed by since he'd came through the door but he'd been too distracted to notice the blood dripping from her hand. His eyes flashed to what was left of the mirror and he hurried toward her, avoiding looking at her directly. He pulled the towel off the rack and grabbed her hand. She didn't come out of whatever trance she was in when he touched her. He looked at the cuts quickly to see if there was any glass in them and then wrapped the towel around her palm and knuckles. "Nadia," he tried to catch her eye. "Nadia, what happened?"

She blinked and slowly turned to face him. "I... I don't know."

He searched her eyes, "You don't know?" His eyes narrowed, "Was it Aidan?"

"No," her voice was hallow, "it was me... I was angry."

He swallowed and focused back on her hand, "We've all broken things in a fit of rage," he shrugged and sounded nonchalant.

Her eyes dropped to the hand he was holding gently in his own. "I was mad at you," she said softly without looking away from her towel-wrapped hand.

He faltered for a second and laughed uncomfortably, "Well, thanks for taking it out on the mirror instead of my face." He paused and searched her face; overcome with a strong desire to take that hallow look out of her eyes. "It'd be a shame... It's valuable merchandise," he smirked faintly.

Her gaze moved to his chest but it was obvious she wasn't really seeing it. "I should get dressed." She blinked and pulled her hand away.

He realized she was waiting for him to move out of her way, so he turned and leaned against the vanity and she squeezed by without looking at him. He felt nauseous as he watched her dig clothes out of her bag. It suddenly felt like he'd actually lost her; a stupid thing considering how much he'd been trying to push her away, but he was still left feeling lost. He stared down at the blood and water on the floor and bent down to wipe it up with the towel she'd laid out on the floor. Idly, he wondered why hotels insisted on using white towels and watched as the red stains spread over the threads of the fabric.

"Are you coming?"

His head snapped up and he looked out at Nadia, who immediately looked away. "Yeah..." he dropped the towel in the corner on top of the others and followed her out the front door.

Every officer in the county was scattered around the parking lot; some in their uniforms and others in plain clothes. The tip had been unusual and the guys had obviously obtained the information illegally; but Detective Clyde Walton still had to take it seriously. He wanted to take it seriously. Thirty years on the force and the biggest thing that had ever come across his desk was a small ring of car thefts. The doers turned out to be nothing more than a group of teens who'd had more luck than actual skill. Now, there was a possible serial killer in his town and the pressure he'd been getting to put all these open murder cases to bed, was about to come to a very memorable-maybe even medal-worthy-end. He paused to wipe those dreams from his mind. We don't even know if this is legit, he chastised himself.

He lifted the radio to his lips, "Alright, Jacobs, Martinez, you two move in but be sure you can move away if she gets too close. I don't need you blowing this whole thing." He ran his tongue over the side of his right cheek, a habit he'd picked up long ago and that raised its head under times of stress. The officers moved slowly closer to the hospital and stayed in a position that would allow for a quick and silent retreat. He scanned the area again and movement on top of the electrical building behind them caught his eye. He squinted, trying to determine if the movement was all in his head or not. After a few seconds, he shook it off and looked back at the sidewalk she'd most likely come down. She was smart; a car might mean a fast getaway but one could disappear a whole lot easier on foot.

"Clyde, there's a white female headed your way. Could be her, she fits the description," Officer Compton's voice crackled over the radio.

"Alright. Keep an eye on her. Let me know if she changes directions."

"You got it."

Detective Walton's eyes were glued to the east entrance as he watched and waited for Rebecca Hale to turn the corner. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins and he had to remind himself that he had to wait until she made her move toward Sheehan. His hand rested on his side arm and that seemed to ground him as he waited.

"She just went under a street light..." Officer Sherry White, dressed as a nurse, was leaning against the open gate and was in the best position to see Rebecca coming, "It's definitely her. And she's carrying a duffle bag. She's got on a black hoodie and black pants."

Like the feeling you get when you walk into a house and can sense a TV on, Walton could feel the web of tension going through every one of his officers. They were ready and as anxious for this as he was. This was going to be a night to remember. Just then a small figure came around the corner, walking right past Officer White. White was good; she stayed completely relaxed and uninterested in the passerby. Rebecca wouldn't sense a thing as she walked straight into her trap.

As she drew closer to the cars, she pushed her hood back off her head. Walton couldn't help the shock that came when he saw her. He'd seen the photos but seeing how small and unthreatening she was in person; it was no wonder none of her victims ever saw their death coming. He glanced down at his watch, 8:30. In a half hour, Sheehan would be walking through those doors, completely oblivious to what was headed his way. Walton checked the locations of his snipers again; everything had to go perfectly or this wouldn't be a win for them.

They'd been outside the hospital for an hour just in case Sheehan left early for some reason. The only member of the hospital staff who knew what was about to happen, was Walton's daughter and nurse, Emily. As soon as she called, Sheehan was on his way out and they had to be flawlessly ready. Rebecca sat on a bench under the only parking lamp that wasn't working. How convenient, he thought to himself. He was so focused on watching every move she made and how normal they all were, that he jumped when his phone vibrated on his belt. He fished it out and saw Emily's number. Already? "Hey hun. Is he leaving already?" He listened and hated how tight her voice was. "Okay, thanks. Love you and stay away from the doors and windows." He shoved his phone back in its holder and put the radio to his mouth, "Alright ladies and gentlemen, this is it. He's on his way outside, so stay alert and ready." The tension in the air went up a couple of notches instantaneously. He looked at the time, 8:45, he was getting out early.

With every sound of the doors opening, Rebecca's head snapped up but lost interest as soon as she determined that it wasn't Sheehan. She seemed to be checking the tools in her duffle when he came out. Quickly zipping it back up, she stood as nonchalantly as she could but there was an excitement she couldn't hide. After a quick glance around, she started jogging toward the doors and Walton tensed. She isn't just going to run right up to him, is she? With the radio to his mouth, he paused just long enough to see if she was going to go straight at him; but she stepped over as if she were going to go around him. She was a phenomenal actress as she tripped and fell next to him. And of course, with a beautiful girl like her and, being a doctor, Sheehan immediately turned to help her up. Her smile was dazzling as she laughed at herself and brushed her jeans off. He carefully looked at the scrape on her elbow and her hand reached covertly into her bag. Walton sucked in a lungful of air just as he saw the flash of metal in her hand. "Now! Move, move!" He shouted over the radio.

He was too late. Rebecca had already driven the knife deep between Sheehan's ribs. He looked, stunned, down at the knife sticking out of his body. Rebecca looked him relentlessly in the eye as she pulled out the knife and prepared to thrust it in again. Shouts of, "Police! Don't move! Drop your weapon!" busted out all around the parking lot. Walton was already running toward the scene, gun drawn. "Rebecca," he shouted as he wormed his way through the gathered officers. "Rebecca, put the knife down, your bag too. Don't make this worse than it already is, Rebecca."

After the initial surprise, she looked out over all the guns that were pointed at her with an eerie calm. She didn't tense in preparation to run away or show fear toward the spectacle; instead she looked at them with annoyance. It was like they were no more than an interruption to the inevitable. She turned back to Sheehan and pulled her hand back, readying herself for another stab. "Rebecca! He doesn't deserve this!" Walton yelled desperately.

Her head snapped in his direction. "He deserves worse than this," her voice dripped acid. "He took away everything," she growled and turned back to Sheehan, who was barely staying upright.

As soon as Sam saw the look in Rebecca's eyes, he dialed Dean's number. "Dean, you have to bring Nadia here. Now. This isn't going well, she already stabbed him and there's no way she's going to surrender with him still alive."

"Almost there," Dean replied quickly and hung up. "Hold on," he told Nadia before he slammed on the brake and spun the Impala around. His arm went out instinctively to keep her from slamming into the windshield.

Her hands shot out to brace herself, barely registering his protective gesture. The sudden change in direction snapped her out of the trance she'd been in and Dean was glad to see it. "What's happening?" She didn't look at him as she asked.

Focused solely on the road, he replied, "She's going to force them to shoot her unless you get there to stop her."

His recent resentment and fear toward her using her abilities wasn't there and that, she noticed. "I can get there faster on my own," she told him. He started to argue but before he could, she said, "See you there," and disappeared.

Only his constant immergence to the strange and unusual, kept him from running the car off the road but her instantaneous vanishing was still unsettling. People aren't meant to teleport, he thought to himself. But she's not just a person, he reminded himself. For the first time in a long time, that acknowledgement meant nothing to him. "Damn it, Nadia!" He pressed the gas pedal down the last few centimeters to the floor.

Teleportation, without the distraction of exploding windows, felt a lot like when she shifted her appearance. She felt like she was caught behind the navel and yanked backwards; it wasn't at all pleasant. She stumbled and fell when she landed on the rooftop next to Sam, who caught her without a second thought. A heartbeat later he let go of her hand and said, "That is going to take some getting used to."

"Hey, at least I get to keep my clothes," she said absentmindedly. She wasn't sure if that was Aidan's comment escaping her head or her own, but she ignored it and focused on the parking lot below them.

"What are you going to do?" Sam watched her as she focused all of her energy on Rebecca's form.

The officer in charge was doing his best to keep her focused on himself, he must have been able to see the same thing as her and Sam could; Rebecca had nothing to lose. Nadia didn't respond to Sam's question. Like back at the prison in Florida, she did the first thing that came to mind. Rebecca was yelling back at the officer, in the middle of a rant, when she suddenly slumped to the ground. Nadia sighed in relief but kept part of her mind on keeping Rebecca unconscious.

Sam was astounded, "Did you...kill her?" Nadia shot him a glare and watched as all the officers froze, unsure what to do. The officer in charge slowly moved forward and that encouraged others to do the same. Nadia thought that over a dozen guns pointed at one woman was a bit of over kill, but she figured the cops around there didn't see a whole lot of action. One officer cuffed Rebecca while another moved her bag and knife into his car. The lead officer holstered his gun and checked her pulse. Nadia closed her eyes and stretched her hearing toward them.

"She's alive." Nadia assumed that was the lead officer. "Go inside, he needs help now!" A couple of officers raced into the hospital in search of help for Sheehan.

"What happened?" asked another officer.

"I don't know. We'll have to get her checked out before taking her to the station." He sounded annoyed and disappointed.

Nadia pulled back and sighed in frustration, "Crap."

"What?" Sam asked just as a car came stretching to a stop on their side of the lot. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who had just arrived.

Dean jumped out of the car and ran to the building. Sam helped him up and told him that everything was okay. Nadia answered Sam's question, "They have to get her checked out inside before they can move her to the station." She was exasperated and didn't look away from the commotion across the lot. She shook her head and let go of Rebecca's mind in hopes that the cops would decide against the delay.The cops started calling to each other as Rebecca woke up and several drew their guns again. The lead officer helped Rebecca to her feet and she looked around totally confused. Nadia couldn't help the small smile on her face as she watched Rebecca try and figure out what had happened.

Dean chuckled, "Bet she's pissed now."

"I think she was pretty pissed before," Nadia replied dryly. Sam glanced between the two of them with a slight smile on his lips. "We should get to the station, I still have to talk to the chief and remind him about our earlier conversation." She started across the roof to climb down.

Sam smiled. "Yes, remind him," he mused.

"You coming with us or are wheels just too below you now?" Dean asked with a small smirk.

She paused at the roof's edge and smiled to herself. "Better below than on top of me." Dean rolled his eyes to her back. "I'll ride with you; I'm still sort of nauseous from the trip here."

"Teleportation not all it's cracked up to be?"

She shrugged and turned around to face them. "I have more good memories in the backseat of the Impala anyway," she hadn't been thinking when she'd said the words. She flushed red and pressed her lips together before stepping backwards off the roof. Sam and Dean ran to the edge and looked down to find Nadia standing up from a crouch and wiping off her hands. "Don't have all night boys," he hollered up to them and shook off the awkwardness she'd created.

It wasn't a great distance down to the ground from where he and Sam stood, but it would still hurt a normal person. Dean shook his head, "Show off," and started climbing down the ladder.

Sam glanced from Nadia to Dean, trying to figure out what had made her blush. Understanding lit his face before he scowled and looked down at Dean who'd just stepped onto the pavement. "That's just unsanitary. And I call a perpetual, shotgun." Dean smirked up at him and Sam started down the ladder.