Chapter Text
The sun is blinding. It somehow manages to cut through the extensive canopy of trees. Tall, tall trees with lush, green leaves and the air has such a fresh scent, a new scent. Everything feels new. It’s as if everything around him was just created and Ryan knows he’s in a dream.
He’s had enough of these now to know. Yes, the last few were hazier, but this? This is the kind of lucid dream he’s used to. It feels real and fully formed.
Ryan’s standing at the heart of a deep forest. The songs of various birds and insects are almost deafening and he walks forward, fresh dirt and grass staining his sneakers.
Little white flowers cling to the bases of trees, their woody bark covered with bits of moss and the strangest thought comes to him. Illinois. He’s in Illinois. Or the place where Illinois will someday be.
Because, again, he somehow knows this is all new. He’s at the beginning somehow. The beginning of…this. The world, maybe? Time? It’s indescribable, this knowledge but no, it’s not quite the beginning. Just very, very close.
After all, the trees have been growing for some time, as has everything else but it’s – it’s definitely early in the history of everything and suddenly the sound just cuts out.
The cacophony of nature dies and it’s eerily quiet. Ryan stops walking and tilts his head to one side. Wind whispers through the trees, rustling the leaves and then there’s a deafening sound. Ryan can’t even explain what it is.
It’s like triumphant horns colliding with breaking glass and he covers his ears, wincing, because it hurts. It’s like somehow there’s a hole being punched right through his soul and he’s never reacted to a noise in such a visceral way.
It’s an instinctual, elemental response and then there’s this awful clattering and he looks up to see branches snapping, leaves flying everywhere as something big crashes through the canopy.
It’s a blur of blue, gold, brown, and long pale limbs and then it hits the dirty ground about twelve feet in front of him. He blinks and walks closer and then he just knows.
It’s Shane.
But this area isn’t the only place in its beginning, because this is Shane’s beginning. Ryan knows because Shane’s wings…they’re feathered. Feathered and glorious and they twitch and shake and one of Shane’s big hands reaches up, reaches towards the sun.
Sunlight plays over his fingers and he seems stumped by it, horrified, as he starts huddling in on himself, cowering. Ryan walks closer and he knows Shane can’t see him. He can’t explain how, but he just knows it and Shane’s…trembling.
He looks impossibly young. His brown eyes are wide and wild and he’s naked. His long limbs are collected close to his body and his wings wrap around him, as if trying to offer comfort, protection. His eyes zip this way and that and he’s so afraid. Ryan’s never seen him afraid. Not like this.
But his gaze goes back to the wings, because it’s impossible not to look at them. They draw Ryan’s eyes because they’re so…glorious. Blue, gilded in gold and calling them either of those colors is a disservice, because they’re past that but it’s the best his human mind can comprehend. The blue so light, the gold so pure. Heavenly. Ha. Of course they are.
Ryan wants to touch them. He wants to run his hand along one and feel them, but he stays back, because he knows he can’t interact with this. This is a dream. Or a memory. Or…something. And Shane starts rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around his long legs and he looks up at the sky and rocks, rocks, rocks.
He doesn’t speak, but he doesn’t need to. His expression and his actions scream volumes. He’s scared and alone and confused. He’s lost. Ryan reaches out and, as if on cue, something happens.
The ground beneath Shane quakes. It moves and out of the dirt comes a small, clawed hand. It grasps at his right ankle and Shane lets out this…cry. Ryan’s never heard anything like it. It immediately brings tears to his eyes and he blinks them back as another hand rises up.
It’s just as disturbing as the last, covered in boils – black and rusty red and it clutches at his left wing, tearing into the feathers. Another cry, this one more heart wrenching than the last and Shane struggles, he bats at the hands but suddenly more emerge from beneath the earth.
A multitude of hands appear. Some are clawed, some diseased, some inhuman. They begin ripping Shane’s wings apart, feathers shedding like tears and once removed they dissolve into nothing, ashes in the wind and Shane keeps crying.
This awful keening sound and his struggles are weak, futile, and the hands wrap around his whole body, they tug and they pull and the earth beneath him opens up wide, the hands yanking him downwards even as he fights, struggles.
Sulfur hits the air, thousands of endless screams following that, and the air itself seems to ignite with an unbelievable, oppressive heat – and Ryan can only watch in horror as Shane’s pristine features are stained, ruined. His skin painted with soot and blood as he’s swallowed up by the earth, dragged below its surface towards…
Ryan closes his eyes shut tight because he doesn’t want to see this. He can’t see this. When he opens them again, the forest is back to its prestigious self. Birds and insects sing again, wind whipping cheerily through the trees and Shane is gone. The only sign he was ever there at all is one flawless feather, floating through the air, undissolved and perfect but it doesn’t matter. Nothing does and this, mercifully, is when the dream ends.
+
Ryan’s eyes blink open, taking in the shadowy recesses of the motel room he’s in. His eyelashes are clumped, gummy with shed tears and he curls upright, moaning. He puts his head in his hands and sniffs. Dream? More like nightmare. Jesus fuckin’ Christ.
He clicks on a nearby bed side lamp and scratches at the back of his neck before running one finger under his nose, grimacing at the wet trace there. Crying. Crying in his sleep. That’s something he can do without. He sighs and gets to his feet, goes into the shitty little bathroom and washes his face and hands thoroughly before clicking on the television.
The early morning news is on, some chippy newscaster talking about the weather and he checks his cell. He sees Mal called and it gives him some grim satisfaction. Good, if the demon called, he might finally have a good fucking lead this time. Ryan swipes at the screen, checking for other messages. Nothing from any of the other contacts he’s made in the past few days, so that’s a shame, but not a surprise.
It hasn’t been an easy road, getting his foot in the door of the supernatural world. Before, he always had Shane with him. Now he has to go about this solo and that’s tougher. Even with the stamp of approval, his bond status isn’t readable anymore. It’s not something supernatural creatures can sense. So, to them, it’s as if his rights have been revoked.
But they haven’t been. He still has them, just like he still has the bond. Oh, it might not be a metaphysical thing anymore, but it’s there. The fucking bond is engraved on his goddamn heart and he feels it every day, every night as he searches and searches. Searches for Shane and he puts in a call to Malthazor as the news shifts to traffic.
“What’ve you got for me?”
“Hey, boss,” Malthazor calls him this now without hesitation, “How’s Wichita?”
“It’s Kansas, you got something for me or not?”
Malthazor lets out a heavy sigh, “Boss, sir…um, h-have you done anything fun?”
“What’re you? My mom?” he grumbles but he knows the demon is coming from a good place. A demon. Coming from a good place. He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries again, “I went down by the water. Saw the Keeper of The Plains.”
“Oh! Awesome! That must’ve been neat!”
“Yeah, seeing all the ghosts there was a blast,” Ryan smirks, part sarcasm, part honest truth, “Didn’t know that spot was haunted.”
“Eh, it’s drawn a lot of ghouls over time. And, like I’m sure you’ve noticed, water’s gorgeous there.”
“Yeah, it is,” Ryan admits and then finds himself confessing, “I had another dream.”
“Did you?”
He makes a confirming sound and just as Malthazor starts to ask if it was a ‘good’ one (they never are) the news captures Ryan’s attention, “…investigators trying to determine what caused a deadly crash yesterday evening. The driver, a fifty seven year old male, was killed. Police say the driver lost control of his vehicle and ran off Roosevelt Boulevard into a large tree. However, in a bizarre turn of events, a young girl was discovered in the victim’s trunk. Officials have yet to release any further information, but it is noted that the girl amazingly sustained very little injuries…”
Malthazor’s still talking, rambling about god knows what, when Ryan cuts back into the conversation, “What are the numbers?”
Malthazor stops midstream, confused, “Num-?”
“The cabal, Mal. What are we at?”
He makes a little ‘ah!’ and Ryan can hear some computer clicking in the background, “We’re at seventy ei…seven. Seventy seven.”
“Mal…”
A loud exhale, “It…it just dropped. Must have been an update from-”
“From last night,” Ryan cuts in, eyes on the screen, “Shit. I missed him. Again.”
“Hey, this isn’t an exact science, “Malthazor argues defensively, “Trying to pinpoint his plan of attack…his trajectory is all over the place! Two weeks ago he’s in Berlin, then Budapest, then he’s stateside. I’m pretty sure he’s going to stay stateside now. Most of the eviler cabal members are here – no surprise, America – but this is still a big country. I figured Kansas was a good bet, but it was hard to get info on the cabal member there…”
“Let me guess? A reportedly fifty seven year old human male with a predilection for young girls?”
“Sounds right,” Malthazor mutters and there’s more typing, followed by a light ‘uh huh’, “Okay, got it. Baraxese. Ooo! A duke of Hell, no less! Masquerades or, did masquerade, as a Kansas state senator-”
“They didn’t mention that,” Ryan murmurs to himself as Malthazor continues, “-well known for his taste for…” Malthazor breaks off and just lets out a disgusted sound, “Do…do I gotta read this?”
“You’re a demon, aren’t you?”
“I’m a demon with standards, Ryan,” Malthazor actually called Ryan by his name, which is rare and shows how serious he is about this, “Murder, arson, torture? I’m cool with all of that. If you’re grown. A grown soul is fair game. But a kid’s? That’s…”
“Not your forte?”
“Shouldn’t be anyone’s forte. I don’t mind driving nails through the eyes of humans who’ve committed gross adultery or chowing down on soul shards from a Pit-dissected rapist, but I’ll be damned if I go for a young fresh soul. Hell, most demons aren’t that depraved.”
Ryan can’t help but smile, “Honestly…I’ll never understand you guys, will I?”
“You’re welcome to try. In fact, if you go ahead and just come back home-!”
“No.”
“Sir…”
“No, Malthazor. Not until I find him.”
Mal grumbles under his breath and Ryan clicks off the television. They’ve had this argument before. Several times. He doesn’t know why Malthazor keeps trying, but he does, “I understand, sir. But here’s the thing – we’re reaching the statute of limitations on what we can do to hold your and Mr. Madej’s jobs at Buzzfeed and-”
“I don’t care about that.”
“Y-you don’t-?”
“I don’t care about the show, Mal. I’m not thinking about that right now.”
“Well, you need to, Ryan,” and at this Ryan blinks because, wow, his name twice in one conversation? Malthazor must really be reaching the end of his rope, “Look, I’m your advisor, okay? I’m also Mr. Madej’s advisor. In fact, I was his advisor first and he always impressed upon me how important it was to him that the status quo remains that. Status. Or is it quo?”
Ryan is almost tempted to chuckle at that one.
Malthazor plugs on, “Either way, he wanted to remain your monitor and he wanted to keep his job at Buzzfeed. I know you’re trying to find him and bring him back, but-but what are you trying to bring him back to?”
This question actually draws a sigh from Ryan and he pinches at the bridge of his nose again. Dammit. It’s a good argument.
“If, and this is big ‘if’, if you manage to succeed, I’ll imagine he’ll want things just as he left them, yes? Which includes his job as a Buzzfeeder or-or whatever.”
“Okay but, even if I concede to your point, how is my coming back going to help anything? Even if I start working again, Shane’s still missing. Shane still loses his job.”
“Not necessarily,” Malthazor returns and his tone is colored with how pleased he is at winning this one, “Our current actions to cover your absences – mind wipes, time displacement – those options are reaching their conclusions, but there’s another, more lasting course of action we can take. However, in order to do that, I need you back here, even if only temporarily.”
Ryan sighs and looks at the black television screen. Well. Shane has come and gone. He nods, “Okay, okay. Get me a return ticket.”
+
DiscordChannel/IDK BFU BOYS
Missyb – OMG! Boys’ll be back soon!!!
appletatersprecious (Devon) – I know! So excited! Wonder where they’ll go for this season of supernatural!
queenie – whatevs. Ghosts aren’t real. #shaniacs
Missyb – they are! fight me in the pit, ali! ;p
queenie – I’ll fight you to hurry up and finish ur fic. U killin me – lol.
Missyb – you’re too sweet. Working on it. school’s the woooorst. I feel like dying.
gghost62 – Been there.
Missyb – hi, gg! Welcome!
gghost62 – Hello. You can call me Gladys if you want. Or GG. I’m still so nervous about this. I’m very new to this whole thing.
appletatersprecious (Devon) – new to the fandom?
gghost62 – That and more. Still trying to figure out this typing/internet thing.
Missyb – ???
gghost62 – We didn’t have this when I was alive.
Missyb – What?! ROFLMAO!!! :D Take that, ali! gg’s on my side! Ghosts are real.
gghost62 – Of course, they are! Who says they’re not?
queenie – take it you’re a Boogara then?
gghost62 – Boogara?
appletatersprecious (Devon) – oh man, you ARE new to the fandom.
queenie – shaniacs = agree with shane about ghosts, boogaras = agree with Ryan about ghosts.
gghost62 – OH! DEFINITELY RYAN! He’s a cutie!
Missyb – agreed! And his arms? Unf! I’m weeeeeak.
gghost62 – He’s the cutest breather I’ve ever seen. But that leggy demon isn’t too bad either.
queenie – hahah – take it ur talking about shane?
appletatersprecious (Devon) – shane is a demon!
gghost62 – You guys know that?
appletatersprecious – well, it’d explain a lot.
Missyb – (raised hands emoji)
gghost62 – What’s that?
Missyb – what? This? (raised hands emoji) there’s a whole bunch of emojis you can add on here. they’re near the talk bar.
gghost62 – Oh! Neato! (eggplant, heart-eyes, bicycle, mouse emojis)
queenie – (laughing emoji)
gghost62 – It’s nice to interact with people again. Gets boring for a ghost girl.
Missyb – ha! But imagine what that’d be like! Ghosts on the internet!
appletaterprecious (Devon) – it’s possible.
gghost62 – Trust me. It’s very possible.
Missyb – Wonder when the new season’ll start. soon, right?
gghost62 - It might get held up, but it’ll happen. They’re working on it.
queenie - Spoken with true authority!
gghost62 - friend of mine, Judy, told me there’s a delay, but they’re working on it.
appletatersprecious (Devon) – i haven’t heard of a delay?
gghost62 – It’s hush hush. Don’t worry. It’ll come back soon.
queenie – you so weird, gg.
gghost62 – Sorry.
queenie – NO! I LIKE weird! Please keep being weird!
gghost62 - (grinning emoji)
Missyb - Imagine watching the show with a ghost!
gghost62 - Well, I’ll be watching it – so, you will be?
queenie - gg, you’re my new weird bff.
gghost62 - I’ll be back. I’m going to log off this channel for now. Look up what ‘bff’ means.
queenie - (heart emoji)
+
Ryan drives up feeling only slightly nervous. Thus far, everywhere he’s gone has been easy to access, but this is something altogether different. This is a television studio. But Malthazor sent him the proper identification along with his ticket, so Ryan’s waved in when he presents the Id’s security asks for. He sees Mal to one side and the demon waves at him.
Ryan parks and gets out to walk up to him. When he's close enough Malthazor eyes him speculatively, “Have you been sleeping alright? You’ve got bags under your eyes.”
“I’m fine,” Ryan lies and he’s surprised Mal asked, because he knows about the dreams but whatever, “So what are we doing here?”
“Follow me,” the demon signals and Ryan follows. They enter an older looking building and, much like the carpet and rug store, Ryan finds himself descending down a variety of stairs and going thorugh a multitude of tests before they find themselves in an underground passageway. Eventually they come into a space filled with different sets, as if a variety of television shows or movies are being shot down in this one great, big space.
People bustle around them and Ryan’s completely lost. They went from exactly what they saw upstairs to this? A damn near replica? What was the point? Malthazor must catch his confusion, “The studio above is for the mortals and the uninitiated. Down here? This is for us. We have our own studio.”
“You’re saying there’s a supernatural studio directly beneath the mortal one?”
“Uh huh. Smart, right? We were originally going to do this with the hospitals, but it proved too tricky. Here no one bats an eye at weird stuff wandering around. Topside or bottom. But you can only access bottom if you’re actually supernatural – as you saw from all the locks and codes and stuff we had to pass through to get here.”
Ryan nods, "Got it. Still doesn’t explain why we’re here.”
“I know. Come on, this way,” Malthazor eases a hand towards Ryan’s elbow but doesn’t touch it, instead just lightly directing him. They walk along until they reach a plush coach and there – sitting bold as brass – is Shane. Ryan stops dead, heart in his throat, “Shane?”
Shane gets up and walks over, expression full of regret, “Um. Not exactly.”
Ryan looks at Shane and then at Malthazor, who clears his throat, “Ryan, this is Zydact. He’s taken on Shane’s appearance.”
“Zy-?” Ryan frowns, “This…? He’s-he’s; what? A shape shifter?”
Zydact winces (winces with Shane’s face), “More like a clone.”
“A clone?” Ryan gawks and a woman comes out with a delicate glass container as Mal explains, “We had some of Shane’s DNA on file, so we didn’t need him to make a copy. But we need you to do this right. That’s why I called you back here.”
The woman presents the container to Ryan and he looks down to see a lizard inside. The moment he sees it he can’t help himself. He busts out laughing, “Oh my god! You’re-you’re telling me out of all the batshit theories the lizard people one is true!”
Zydact sucks in the world’s loudest gasp and the woman shoots Ryan the dirtiest look imaginable. Malthazor groans and starts waving his hands even as Zydact starts (in Shane’s outraged voice), “How DARE you!”
“No! No, no, no – he– he didn’t mean it!” Malthazor starts and he does grab Ryan’s elbow this time, squeezing, “Apologize!”
“Apolo-?” Ryan scoffs as Zydact turns to the woman, “Parcis, did you hear what he called us!”
“I did,” she tugs the container closer to herself, “I really did!”
“Ryan, these-they’re not-! They don’t like being called the ‘L’ word!” Malthazor hisses and Zydact nods, “We’re repordata, thank you! We may look like another species, but I assure you, we are entirely different and what you just said is wildly offensive!”
“So offensive,” Parcis agrees with a shudder.
Ryan looks between the two of them and at Malthazor and suddenly feels like a complete heel, rubbing at the back of his neck, “Oh. Uh, well, I’m-I’m sorry…”
Zydact huffs out and Parcis is still shaking her head and Ryan tries again, tries to show how sincere he truly is, “No, please. I-I really didn’t mean to offend you. I’m still learning and it-it was unforgivably rude of me. I apologize.”
Zydact and Parcis look at one another and then nod. Zydact reaches out and touches Ryan’s shoulder, “Alright, alright. I accept your apology.”
Ryan looks at Zydact’s hand and wishes it didn’t look so much like Shane’s. He wishes he didn’t look so much like Shane. Zydact draws back his hand while Ryan shakes his head to try and clear the clouds from it, “It’s...it’s been a rough couple of weeks.”
“I understand. Malthazor’s filled us in,” Zydact offers, “And moreover, I have Mr. Madej’s DNA currently incorporated with my own. Between that and my research for my role, I know how much you two mean to one another.”
Ryan’s lips just twitch sadly at that as Parcis comes closer, “Calra needs a sample, if you would.”
Ryan looks down into the container to see the lizar-repordata (he mentally corrects himself) looking up at him. Parcis gives him a smile, “Please place your hand in the receptacle. It only takes a moment.”
Ryan does as directed and hisses when it clamps its’ little teeth into him. He draws back, shaking his hand even as Parcis removes Calra, setting the repordata on the ground. It slowly changes and Ryan watches with unblinking awe as it morphs and grows, becoming more and more human before his eyes until a naked version of himself is crouched right in front of him. Another woman appears and offers him a finely made robe.
Calra rises and draws it on and it’s so weird, the world’s best funhouse mirror, because Ryan’s looking right into his own eyes, his own face. Calra offers his hand and speaks (in Ryan’s voice), “Mr. Bergara.”
Ryan eyes Calra’s (his) hand warily before shaking it. Calra grins and turns to Zydact, “Heard him call us the ‘L’ word. You handled that nicely.”
Zydact just shrugs and Calra draws back his hand from the shake to clap, “Been a while since I’ve taken a human form. Feels good. Nice build. Mouth’s a bit goofy though. You see all these teeth?”
He flashes them at Zydact who just laughs, “Whatever. Look at the skin I’m wearing! This head is HUGE! And skinny? God, boy needs to eat more…”
Ryan’s eyebrows knit together as he frowns, not sure how he feels about these guys critiquing how he and Shane look while looking like them. Malthazor, for his part, seems satisfied, “Good! Now, these guys’ll fill in for you and Mr. Madej for the foreseeable future. At least until this whole business with Mr. Madej’s cabal is resolved. No need to fear – they will be deeply indoctrinated. Your own mother won’t be able to tell the difference!”
“Yeah, we’ve been doing this for a loooooong time,” Zydact admits, “Hell, I think Gektae has been successfully portraying that Zuckerberg kid for ages now…”
“Wait, where did Zuckerberg go?”
Everyone but Ryan looks at one another in a dark way. Finally Zydact says, “Somewhere he can’t hurt us anymore.”
And Ryan is NOT going to dig into that one. Talk about unsolved. Anyway, the mood lightens considerably after that as Malthazor explains, “So, these boys’ll do the heavy lifting – make sure your jobs are secure and all we have to do is pay them a trifle.”
“Pay them?”
“Don’t worry, it’s being handled! Much like your airfare and accommodations, Mr. Madej’s current holdings cover all the expenses,” Mal eases a little closer, whispering so only Ryan can hear, “Keep in mind, his, ah, current activities are transferring a lot of bread our way.”
“‘Our’ way?” Ryan questions and Malthazor sniffs, “As advisor to you both, I take in a decent cut.”
Ryan rolls his eyes, “Yeah. Right. Whatever. Okay, so, job secured. Can I get back to what’s really important?”
“The hunt for Mr. Madej?”
"No, the hunt for a good bagel. Yes, my hunt for Shane. Christ,” Ryan rubs at his face and then Zydact’s there, right in front of his eyes. Right in front of him and looking exactly like Shane, “Hey little guy, can I talk to you for a moment? In private?”
That voice…those words…so Shane. Ryan just blinks and nods. Zydact leads him away and once they’re a sufficient distance from the others, from the hustle and bustle of the sets, he turns to him, “Ryan, like I told you – I’ve done my research. Are you sure Sh…I would want you to find me?”
Hearing it in that voice…
Ryan’s suddenly overcome with a wave of exhaustion. He’s looking up into Shane’s eyes and for a while he just. He wants to forget. He wants to forget all about the supernatural, all about lizard people and impostors, and the hunt and he just…he wants…
And it’s as if ‘Shane’ reads his mind. He touches his face and Ryan’s eyes feel wet as he mutters, “I-I miss him…you…I miss…”
“Shh,” is the soft answer and Shane’s arms open and Ryan falls into them. He hugs him. He hugs him so hard, so tight. Shane hugs back, talks into his hair, “I miss you too. I know it.”
“H-how-?”
“I told you…I did my research. I’m taking his place. He misses you, Ryan. There’s no way he doesn’t.”
Ryan buries his face into Shane’s chest and breathes in and fuck, he even smells like him. Ryan once thought people having a distinct scent was bullshit, but he gets a lungful of something warm and clean and his knees wobble. He aches. He misses his reality. He misses his Shane.
But at least this one is here to hug back. At least he’s here to offer support, “Eh, you’re probably right, you know. He probably thinks he doesn’t want you to find him, but I’m banking on that being bullshit.”
“Oh?” Ryan asks as he draws away from the hug and Zydact looks down at him, “Yeah. After all, if you don’t bring me back, how will I finish the Hot Daga?”
Ryan lets out a watery laugh because it’s such a Shane thing to say. Zydact grins, “I know how much you’d hate for it to sit on a cliffhanger.”
“Hey, you’re-you’re pretending to be him, you could finally axe-”
“Nope. Not ever.” Is the firm answer and Ryan’s tempted to hug him again. Instead he murmurs, “You’re…you’re really good.”
“Am I?”
A nod, “Dead on Shane impression.”
“Well…go get the real one, huh? And fast. These limbs are too long and wiggly for my tastes.”
Ryan laughs his first genuine laugh in a long time, “That’s the plan.”