Fake Fan Fiction ❯ Fight or Flight ❯ A Disappearance ( Chapter 1 )

Previously:

 

“Please,” he said quietly, and his tone matched his face. “You don't want to do this.”

 

The gun didn't waver.

 

“If you do what you're being told to do, you'll always regret it. And I don't want you to go through that. I don't want to make things worse for you.”

 

Not a twitch.

 

“Please. I love you…”

 

A gunshot shattered the night.

 

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One Week Earlier

Omaha, Nebraska

 

Sam Winchester sighed and rubbed at his forehead in irritation, more out of habit than actual physical pain. He glanced at the clock just as it turned to 5:03 and then at his older brother, who was still asleep. He felt a moment of envy, or something very akin to it, but it went as suddenly as it had come and was replaced by the normal exhaustion, a side effect of another near-sleepless night.

 

With an effort, Sam turned his mind back to the matter at hand—scrolling through dozens of online newspaper articles, trying to find something—anything—that would make a certainty of what were, at the moment, simply suspicions. So far he'd been at it for over three hours, and had found nothing that set off any alarm.

 

At 5:30, Sam gave up on the internet and switched tactics. Moving silently so that he didn't wake Dean, he slipped out of his chair and over to his brother's bag. After a moment's digging he pulled out an old, thick, faded brown journal, and took it back to their motel room's tiny table.

 

The contents of the journal appeared to be gibberish at first glance, and at second and third and more, if you didn't know what it was all supposed to mean. Newspaper clippings, pictures, and foreign symbols all mixed with tiny, cramped writing, and every page was filled until not a bit of blank space remained, until the whole of it had the ability to make you dizzy if stared at too long.

 

But Sam was as familiar with this book as he was with the faces of his father and brother, and it wasn't long before he was immersed in the thing and at last ignorant of the minutes ticking by.

 

By the time 6:30 rolled around and Dean stirred in his bed, Sam's suspicions had been confirmed.

 

He glanced up as Dean pushed himself into a sitting position, and smiled slightly at his brother's low early-morning grumbles.

 

“What the hell are you doing?”

 

Sam turned a page. “Research.”

 

“It's six in the morning.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam agreed.

 

“Why are you doing research at six in the morning?”

 

“Because I'm on the crack.”

 

“No, seriously, man—” And then a look of dawning comprehension crossed Dean's face. “You had another dream.”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

 

“You okay?” Dean asked casually.

 

“Yeah.” But Sam knew that wasn't what he wanted to ask. He tossed the open book to Dean, who caught it deftly and looked down at it.

 

After a long time, Dean put the journal aside and said with an air of resignation, “Fine. You can tell me about it on the way.”

 

XXX

 

New York City

 

Dee Laytner woke very, very slowly, the way he always did when he didn't have an alarm set. His mind was awake much sooner than his eyes, and the first thing that crossed it was a truly wonderful thought. No work today…

 

No work…that meant no cases, no guns, no life-or-death experiences, and, most importantly, no Rose…just him and Ryo…

 

Hey, how come Ryo isn't here? Dee wondered fuzzily, having rolled over to slide an arm around his partner only to find an empty place on the bed. Can't have a day off without Ryo…that's more work than work is…

 

So, sighing and grumbling, Dee rolled off the bed and stumbled out of the room to investigate.

 

Luckily, Ryo obviously hadn't wanted him to work too hard, because in the kitchen of their small apartment he found the table set with breakfast and a note on the counter. Dee smiled fondly as he read it:

 

--Dee

 

Happy birthday! Sorry I wasn't there when you woke up, but I'm running some errands this morning and I did make breakfast, so at least you won't starve before you get your presents. Bikky's at Carol's for the day, so meet me at the Vietnamese place—you know the one—for lunch at 12:30. Don't be late.

 

--Ryo

 

Grinning to himself over absolutely nothing at all, Dee threw the note away and went to check out Ryo's cooking. And who knew? He might even eat it, considering that it wasn't likely to kill anyone consuming it anymore.

 

XXX

 

It only took about an hour for him to get bored and decide to go out. What he wanted to do, he had no idea, but a man can only stand staying in a two-bedroom apartment on his own birthday for so long without losing his mind.

 

Maybe he'd go visit the Penguin…

 

In fact, that was probably the safest idea he could have had. Dee could just imagine the tongue-lashing he'd get from the old nun he called Mother if he failed to show up today, of all days.

 

By now, he could walk from his apartment to the orphanage where he'd grown up in his sleep, and so he freed his mind for random thoughts as he traced the New York City blocks, allowing it to fill up with images of Ryo and trying to figure out what his gift would be.

 

Now, Ryo MacLean was quite a distracting person to think about, with his light brown, wavy hair and jet-black eyes and that adorable blush and shy smile. And Dee never really had the greatest attention span to begin with, even on the rare occasions when he wasn't thinking about his love. And besides, he was off the clock today—that meant he was supposed to have a completely trouble-free day.

 

So maybe, just maybe, the fact that he didn't expect to be pulled into a shadowed alley at ten o'clock on Saturday morning wasn't entirely inexcusable.

 

XXX

 

“I really hope Dee doesn't decide to come here,” Ryo said distractedly, trying to help hang one of the larger streamers across the main room of the orphanage.

 

Sister Maria Lane, Dee's mother in all but blood, shrugged as she and Carol finished setting up the snack table. “If he does, I'm sure Bikky wouldn't object to going out and whacking him over the head until he forgets why he's here,” she said cheerfully.

 

“It'd be a better present than the one I got him,” Ryo's adopted son replied, smirking as he thought of the little wrapped pink stuffed pony on the gift table.

 

“Yeah, you definitely surpassed yourself with that one,” one of Bikky's friends, Eric, said with a chuckle.

 

“Whoa, `surpassed',” another shelter boy mocked. “Big word for someone who can barely spell `cat'.”

 

“Shut the f—”

 

“ERIC!!”

 

“Sorry, Mother.”

 

“Cake coming through! Buckle up for safety!” Ryo's Aunt Elena Whatever-Her-Last-Name-Is screeched, throwing open the front door and sweeping in dramatically. “But good God, Ryo, is Dee on the verge of leaving you or something? Because the only reason I can think of for you to order a cake this big would be if you needed to win him back.”

 

Ryo blushed a little. “I just wasn't sure how many people there would be…”

 

“Relax, I'm just teasing you. And the good thing is, now you'll have enough cake—for your birthday, for his next one, three to five anniversaries, and Berkley's wake after Dee gets around to killing him.”

 

“Have you always been this mean and sarcastic, or just since I moved out?”

 

Elena shrugged. “Couldn't tell you. Wouldn't if I could. I—”

 

“Ryo! Time!” Mother said, bustling back into the room.

 

Ryo looked at his watch and was out the door before Elena finished the next word.

 

XXX

 

Ryo was unsurprised that Dee was late for lunch. Dee was always late, for everything. But he would be there, Ryo was sure of that. He wouldn't pass up a chance for a free lunch…

 

Especially free lunch with me. And the possibility of…

 

Ryo blushed. What had brought that thought on?

 

That man is the worst influence on me…

 

But even knowing that, Ryo felt a fond smile cross his face as he found a seat and settled in to wait.

 

XXX

 

Dee groaned slightly as he swam back toward reality, but mainly because he was stiff, rather than because of pain. Oh, his head hurt, of course—that was usually the result of being smashed over the head by an unseen assailant—but he'd been hurt much worse, so he was able to push away the pain.

 

He rolled over onto his back, and stifled a cry when the muscles in his upper arms pulled tight. Damn, he hated being tied up…not that he wasn't used to it, but seriously, it was getting a little ridiculous.

 

But wait…

 

This was the loosest, simplest knot he'd ever been tied with…

 

Struggling into a sitting position, Dee looked around him, struggling with the knot, and looked around.

 

He seemed to be in some kind of large basement—a rather lived-in basement. In one corner there was a large, comfortable looking bed, the sheets still mussed from sleep, and a few feet from the foot of it was a medium-sized TV set up on a card table. Next to the bed was what seemed to be a small refrigerator. The place was entirely cement, but it was well-lit enough that Dee could see everything.

 

By the time he finished storing all this information, Dee was free from his bonds, and he got stiffly to his feet and went to explore in earnest.

 

The only thing he found when he looked closer, though, was a hastily-scrawled note on the bed.

 

Congrats on getting free. Granted, I didn't make it too difficult, but good job anyway. I'll bet you're wondering who I am and how you got here, but I'm sorry to say that I can only tell you that you're in an old factory basement-bomb-shelter-thing, and that there's no point in trying to find a way out. I know you will, though, so good luck with that! Oh, and just so you know, the fridge is stocked and the TV has cable. Still waiting on a microwave, though, so you'll have to eat everything cold. Enjoy your stay!

 

Dee put the note own, two thoughts running through his head.

 

One: What the hell?!

 

And two: Ryo's gonna kill me for missing lunch…

 

XXX

 

Ryo began to get worried when 2:00 rolled by without any sight of Dee. The young black-haired cop was often late, but never this late…

 

At 2:15, he called the apartment, and got no answer.

 

A minute later, he called Dee's cell with the same result.

 

At 2:30, he stopped calling, and went back to see if Dee was asleep, as weird as that seemed.

 

At 2:40, he got back to the apartment and found it empty, but without signs of struggle.

 

At 2:45, he called JJ, because if anyone could track Dee down at a moment's notice, it was Jemmy J. Adams.

 

At 2:47, he learned that JJ had no idea where Dee was.

 

At 3:00, panic began to set in.

 

XXX

 

St. Clair, Missouri

 

Sam stirred and groaned, irritably brushing at the hand shaking him awake. “Go `way.”

 

“Sam, it's time to eat.”

 

“No.”

 

“You've been asleep since we left Omaha. That's enough to get on with.”

 

“Never enough,” Sam muttered, but he forced his eyes open and pushed open his door. “I hate you…”

 

Dean grinned. “Good to know. So,” he went on cheerfully as they entered the diner he'd picked to eat at. “Now that you're back among the non-drooling class—”

 

“Die,” Sam glowered.

 

“I think we should talk about the next gig. `Cause no offense, but the section of the journal you threw at me was kinda…broad.”

 

“Well, that's just it,” Sam said, automatically dropping his voice as the door closed behind them. “It's hard to narrow everything down. The place it a magnet for paranormal activity—we could spend the rest of our lives there and still not get rid of it all.”

 

“So we're driving across the country, and we don't know what we're hunting.”

 

“Wrong.”

 

“Okay, you've lost me.”

 

“There area ton of different creatures in New York, but I did find something specific.”

 

The conversation was paused for a moment when their waitress came over, but Sam picked up right where he'd left off as soon as Dean had placed their orders.

 

“Over the last few months, cops have been disappearing from the NYPD. Then, a couple days later, they show up again, commit some horrible crime, and drop out of sight again, and then reappear. It's a pattern, but it only lasts about two weeks to a month. Then the cop turns up dead, usually at home, but sometimes in their own precincts. Now—”

 

Sam fell silent when the waitress appeared with their food. He allowed Dean a moment's flirting, then smiled at her in thanks and waited for her to leave before continuing.

 

“All these cops are of different races, religions, beliefs—the only thing they have in common is their reputations as some of NYPD's best cops. These are guys who, according to their colleagues, would never even forget to pay a parking ticket, but now they're committing murder.”

 

“Okay, you've got me again,” Dean said thoughtfully. “So what do you think—”

 

“Shapeshifter.”

 

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Dude, next time hold an envelope up to your head before you do that.”

 

Sam shook his head. “I forgot to mention the note. Sorry. See, the bodies—they always turn up with notes pinned to their clothes, and they always say the same thing. Thanks for the mask. That's it.”

 

Dean thought about it a moment, then shrugged. “Well, we've dealt with shifters before.”

 

“Yeah, but I have a feeling it's…different, this time. This guy doesn't seem to want anything. There's no pattern to what these cops do when they go bad. And he…uh…disposes of them quickly, like he doesn't want them to get caught. So if he doesn't get a kick out of the publicity, and he's not trying for revenge or anything, then—”

 

“Then what does it want?” Dean finished. “Yeah, that's weird…”

 

The brothers ate in silence, and it wasn't until they left the diner that Dean spoke.

 

“Well, I say we drive for another few hours, and then we can stop at a motel somewhere, get some sleep, and when you wake up hours before me tomorrow you can try to dig up something—like, say, a name. Then we should probably leave around seven, and we'll be in New York by tomorrow night.”

 

Sam shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

 

XXX

 

The Next Morning

Somewhere in Illinois

 

By five in the morning, Sam had determined the NYC newspapers to be of little use. The last report was dated three days ago, but it only told that a body had turned up, and Sam could tell from the article that it was their target who had done it. But the article didn't say anything about any other cops disappearing.

 

So, Sam turned from public knowledge to confidential information.

 

It only took him about half an hour to hack into the NYPD database—it was kind of pathetic how easy the safeguards were to get around. After a few minutes' searching, Sam clicked off the computer and went to shake his brother awake, chanting the name over and over in his mind.

 

Dee Laytner…Dee Laytner…Dee Laytner…

 

XXX

 

New York City

The 27th Precinct

 

Ryo couldn't seem to sit still. He'd sit down, stay there for a few seconds, then jump up and pace around the room, then go to his desk, pick up his coffee, down it, set it down, and return to his chair. Then he'd jump up and the cycle would begin all over again.

 

“Ryo, do yourself a favor,” Commissioner Berkley Rose said flatly, watching the other man as one would watch a tennis match. “Pick a spot, stand there, and for God's sake, stop drinking coffee.”

 

Ryo, needless to say, did not heed the advice, just as he had ignored every other word from Rose for the last twenty-odd hours. It wasn't out of disrespect—it simply doesn't pay to show out-and-out disrespect for your commissioner, no matter how tempting the idea is—but Ryo just didn't have room in his head for anything other than worry.

 

“What time is it?”

 

“Not yet, Ryo,” Rose replied calmly. “Another couple hours.”

 

Ryo resumed pacing. “Commissioner, can't we—”

 

“You know the rules, Ryo. Probably better than I do.” And suddenly the voice wasn't quite so flat—it was tinged with a little bit of annoyance, though perhaps not at Ryo. “We have to wait twenty-four hours from the last time you saw Dee to put out an APB.”

 

“But, sir, he's one of ours—”

 

“All the more reason to wait,” Rose said implacably. “Ryo, look.” Ryo paused in his relentless pacing and glanced at him. “Laytner is an idiot—I don't think he could find his way to his mailbox if there weren't landmarks—but he knows this business, and he knows how to take care of himself. He'll be fine. Okay?”

 

Ryo thought about it for a moment. Then, “What time is it?”

 

XXX

 

A Random Motel

 

It was late when Dean and Sam drove into New York City. Sam was once again half-dozing in the passenger's seat, having taken his turn driving when they'd left Illinois. The younger Winchester woke more easily this time, however, and it wasn't long before the brothers were situated in what would be home for the next few days.

 

Once they were fairly settled in, Sam got online and checked to see if the 27th Precinct had put out a search for their missing cop, while Dean set up the police scanner so that they'd know if the shapeshifter had gone into action yet.

 

After a few minutes of silent lawbreaking, Sam had all the information on Dee Laytner that he hadn't found before. Position on the force, badge number, age, physical description, and a photo—everything they needed for the hunt and some things they didn't need at all.

 

Well, except for an actual location, but in Sam's experience, that pretty much tended to take care of itself.

 

“You're gonna stay up, I guess?” Dean asked after a while, but Sam had a feeling that his brother already knew the answer.

 

Sam shrugged. “I guess.”

 

“Not all night, okay? You're useless to me if you're dead on your feet.”

 

“Well, with eloquent and thoughtful advice like that…”

 

“It's not advice. And wake me if something comes in before you go to bed.”

 

“Dean, it's midnight, and you've been driving for most of the day.”

 

Dean quirked an eyebrow, and he didn't need to say anything for Sam to get the message.

 

Sam sighed. “Fine. I'll wake you up.”

 

XXX

 

Somewhere Else In New York City

 

The shape-changer had forgotten his true name long ago. Names didn't matter when you changed identities the way a normal man changes his shirt. In truth, he had never really cared about it, anyway. He had an extraordinary gift, and that was more important than any name or title.

 

For many years—years he'd lost track of almost as long ago as when he'd forgotten his name—he had walked this world, changing in form but never in spirit. And for as many years, he had used his gift to do what so many others were too cowardly to do—he'd acted on impulse. Whatever he felt like doing at a given moment, he did, without thinking twice.

 

And eventually, he'd moved beyond himself. He'd begun to act on the impulses of the shape he'd taken. That is to say, he took past impulses, from the memories he downloaded from each shape as a normal man downloaded files on a computer, and he acted on those. The murderous ones, at least—the shifter had no interest in chasing men or women, or in doing the other lame things that often cross the human mind.

 

Dee Laytner was no different. He'd had the impulse to kill before—not many times, and never with anything remotely approaching a serious thought, but he'd had it, and that was what counted.

 

But first…

 

The shifter smiled slowly as he looked across the street at the shabby apartment building he'd been waiting at. He had seen a certain young woman entering and leaving this building at all hours over the last couple of weeks, and suddenly he had the impulse to pay a visit…

 

XXX

 

An Hour Later

The Winchesters' Motel Room

 

“Dean. Dean, wake up.”

 

“Wha—?”

 

“A call came in on the scanner. Rape and murder, right around the site of the shifter's last crime.”

 

XXX

 

Half An Hour Later

Ryo and Dee's Apartment

 

Ryo had been up for two days straight, running on worry and fear and adrenaline. But those things can only keep a body going for so long, and at long last he had returned to the apartment to try and grab a couple of hours of fitful sleep.

 

He had almost—almost—managed to drop off when…the phone rang.

 

“Ryo?”

 

Ryo's heart plummeted at the sound of the voice, and a sick feeling welled up in him.

 

It was JJ.

 

And he'd been crying.

 

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AN: Well, there you have it. Explanations are forthcoming! Review, please!!!