Abducted: Part One | SPN | Dean x Reader | Slow Burn

Chapter 01: You Don't Exist

The person who joined you was new, serious, and much younger than the other officers you'd met during your time at the police station. He was very tall and wore a black suit and tie. Hair, dark blonde. Eyes, piercing green, gazing at you, trying to read your expression as you did the same to him. In his hand was a clear zip-loc bag. The contents resembled the small purse you had been carrying that night.

"Miss?" he greeted, reaching into his suit jacket to pull out a small black wallet. His American accent was low and stern, but also kinder than Officer Tubby had been. "I'm Agent Smith. FBI. I'd like to ask you some questions."

The black wallet in his hand flipped open, revealing the letters FBI in large navy blue writing. A small photograph matching his profile on the right of them. You'd only ever seen these in the movies and did not know what you were looking at. Were you supposed to do something? Take it? Look at it?

When you did nothing, Agent Smith cleared his throat and mouthed what appeared to be an 'okay' in a tone that you would normally take to mean as awkward. He tucked his ID back inside his jacket as he pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. "Is this yours?" he asked as he placed the zip-lock bag down and took out your purse.

All you could do was nod.

He unzipped the purse and pulled out the contents onto the table. You could see your phone. The battery had to be dead by now. A pair of earphones. Your driver's licence and credit card and a couple of coloured Australian banknotes. Your favourite lip gloss and a small bottle of perfume you took on nights out. Plus your house keys and the ticket stub from the club you'd been to that night.

Agent Smith put his pointer finger on your driver's licence and pushed it across the table towards you. "Is this yours?"

Once again, you nodded.

"Answer the question," he snapped.

"Yes," you said, finally finding your voice again. "That's me. That's my licence."

"Okay... Well, the guys out there," he pointed to the door behind him, "the officers, the detectives. They're telling me it's fake. This licence, the credit card you see there. All fake."

"Well. Ah...they're not American. But they're not fake."

Agent Smith pulled your licence back towards himself and collected your things. He placed them back in your purse and closed the zip-loc bag.

"The detective also told me he did a trace on you. Back to Australia. Called the Australian consulate in DC." Agent Smith seemed to take his time. "You... You. Don't. Exist... No one with your name, date of birth, or address according to what's written on your cards exists in Australia. You wanna explain what's up with that?"

Agent Smith waited for you to respond, but you couldn't. You'd already told the detectives, the officers and the hospital staff everything, and no one had believed you. So why would he?

"The detective said you gave him your parent's details, a phone number to call them back in Australia... But they didn't know who you were. Never heard of you... So... Who. Are. You?" The three words you'd heard repeatedly these past few days left Agent Smith's mouth.

How many times had you been asked that? How many times did you have to go over your story before someone believed you? You didn't know how you'd found your way to 'there's no place like home, Toto' Kansas. You couldn't even point it out on a map, let alone name all the states of the US. And you would have remembered if you'd taken a vacation to the United States.

"What's the point? I've been over it with all the others. Here, at the hospital. No one believes me." You lowered your eyes down to your hands, your wrists still wearing the silver handcuffs. "Look. I just want to go home and put whatever this is behind me. If I could just call my family myself. They'll confirm who I am, and I can get out of everyone's hair and find my own way back to Sydney."