A/N: Must I give a long winded explanation? The beginning is a flashback. Italics; duh.

Disclaimer: GONE canon belongs to Michael Grant.

Devil's Advocate |Gone| (00)

"Fucking bite me," I laughed at my brother from my perch on the sofa. "I'm not doing your chores, Dean. Why don't you try and swindle the stupid one into doing your bidding?" I jerked my head at our other, much-younger brother Danny, who was completely oblivious until he heard his name.

He raised his head from where he was playing Xbox. "Huh?"

Dean and I just ignored him, as we typically did.

"Kasey. Please. I'm begging here—begging. If my chores aren't done, Mom won't let me go out with Izzie. I have to—"

"You're right," I interrupted. "Begging isn't your style. Groveling, now that's more like it." I gave him a twisted grin. "By which I mean, down on your knees, puppy eyes, hands clasping together, Dean."

He glared hatefully at me, but sucked it up and got on his knees in front of me, hands clasped together. Giving a martyred sigh, he deadpanned, "Please, will you do my chores for me, Kasey, oh, loveable sister of mine?" He spat the words out like they were painted in a layer of arsenic.

I watched him in amusement, wishing I had a camera right about now.

"Well," I said, slowly just to make him sweat. "I guess. But since I'm out sick with the 'flu' right now"—Dean scoffed at that—"then you owe me. Big. Just because you're a senior and I'm only in ninth grade doesn't make you big and tough. You'll give me every cent of your allowance for the next month."

"No fucking way!" he exploded, jumping up to his feet. "I need that money!"

"Then get a job. I'm only fourteen. There are labor laws."

"What do you need my allowance for?" Dean screeched.

I only shrugged.

"Forget it," he seethed.

"Then forget me doing your damn chores. You can scurry and try to finish in time to still meet up Izzie tonight, or you can give me your allowance in return for me saving your ass. And your lame love life," I added, smirking.

He looked like he could punch me right in the teeth.

"You manipulative little bitch," he told me.

I shrugged again.

"Fine. But only because Izzie's really important to me. I'll give you my damn allow—"

Dean was gone.

I blinked once, twice, rubbed my eyes.

Gone?

"Dean?" I called unsurely, sitting up and looking around. "Where did you go?"

Danny turned away from the TV again, head swiveling to search for our brother. "What happened?" he asked.

I got to my feet and looked around. "Dean, this isn't funny!" I yelled. "Where did you go? How the hell did you Houdini yourself out of here?"

Danny stood up, not pausing his game, and grabbed onto my shirt with his little six-year-old hands. I resisted the urge to shake him off, but I forced myself to ignore him as I went up the basement stairs to the main floor, still calling for Dean.

"Mom!" I called. "Is Dean up here?"

No answer.

Nothing but the sudden smell of smoke, and then the screeching of the smoke detector. Danny shrieked and covered his ears, and I hurried into the kitchen, almost slipping on the hardwood floors in my socks, and gaped at the stovetop fire, burning whatever was in the skillet. A plume of white smoke was billowing up to the ceiling, and I went over to shut off the oven, coughing at the faceful of smoke I got in return for it. I grabbed an Ove'-Glove from the counter, grabbed the handle of the skillet, and threw the burning contents into the sink, turning on the faucet to cool it off and put out the flames. I opened the windows over the counters to get rid of the smoke, grabbing a dish towel to help speed along the process by fanning the smoke to the windows.

I turned slowly back to see Danny standing in the same spot as before, hands still over his ears. I realized the alarm was still piercing the air with its racket, and I stood on a chair to tug it off the ceiling to shut it up. Without the alarm, the silence was smothering and heavy.

It was too quiet.

"Mom?" I called. "Dean?"

Danny scurried over to me, clutching onto my oversized sleep-tee again and burying his face in my stomach. I normally would have shoved him away, but right now, I was just as confused and frightened as he was. I slowly wrapped an arm around his shoulders, looking around at the empty house.

Dad was already at work, Mom was typically home all day, and Dean had an off-period at his school this early. And now Mom and Dean are gone.

I grabbed the phone from its cradle on the kitchen counter and hurriedly dialed my dad's cell number.

There was only silence. No ringing, no dial tone, nothing.

I hung up and tried again, frantic.

Nothing.

Silence with Mom's phone.

Silence with Dean's.

Silence with 911.

Danny clutched onto me tighter as I sank to the floor to lean against the counter. "Where are they?" he asked, starting to cry.

I did another out-of-character thing: I pulled Danny into my lap and hugged him as tight as a teddy bear.

"I don't know," I told him, my voice shaking.

I knew no more than he did; whatever was going on here was scarier than any horror movie.

I was hoping desperately that this was some fever dream brought on by my fake flu, but I couldn't convince myself of that. It was just a poor excuse to avoid going to school today; it wasn't a real flu.

Was everyone gone? Were Danny and I the only ones left in this whole town? In the world?

"Danny," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Can you go look out the window? Do you see anyone?"

He reluctantly pulled himself from my lap, went to the front window and looked out. "I see people," he said, excited and worried at the same time. "Kids."

"Kids?" I echoed.

"Yeah." He turned and scurried back to me. "Your age, my age."

I shakily got to my feet and followed him back to the window, looking out myself in case he was lying. Kids, wandering the streets, looking confused and scared, just like us.

I grabbed Danny's hand and pulled him with me towards the front door. I pulled it open and hurried to the sidewalk barefoot, ignoring the burn of the hot concrete on the soles of my feet, and I flagged down the first person I saw. It was a boy I vaguely recognized from my school, although I couldn't remember his name for the life of me.

"Hey, what the hell is going on?" I asked.

He looked nervous. "I don't know. No one does. All the adults, teachers, teenagers...they all just disappeared."

"Teenagers?" I asked. I was a teenager. Why was I still here?

"Like, fifteen and older. Gone. Poofed right out of school, right in front of us."

I felt sick to my stomach as I pictured Dean in my head, just disappearing.

Without warning, without a single noise.

Almost like a flicker, like when the signal from the satellite to the TV gets interrupted, or when a song skips on a CD.

Just gone. Simple as that, and yet so complicated. Where were the explanations?

Where was Ashton Kutcher?

I didn't quite want to leave my house—I definitely didn't want to leave the one thing familiar to me—and I didn't want to leave Danny either. I usually couldn't stand the little brat, but seeing him so scared and vulnerable, and feeling the same way, made me want to cling to him the same way he was clinging to me.

"Is this just as nightmare, Kasey?" Danny muttered as I started back to the house, with him in tow.

I wished it was. I wished it was a nightmare, and I'd be waking up very soon.

Only nightmares never seem to end.

And those aren't even reality.