Fandom CSI New York/Supernatural
Character(s)/Pairing(s)Flack, Hawkes, Mac, Castiel, Dean, Sam; no pairings
Genre Crime/Death/Fantasy/Supernatural
Rating PG
Word Count 766
Disclaimer CSI New York c. Zuiker, CBS, Paramount; Supernatural c. Kripke, WB, CW
Summary Bizarre events over the past few months are harder to ignore when two of three dead bodies have mysterious shadows.
Warning(s) spoilers for Supernatural season five including the most recent episodes
Notes The idea of some CSI franchise/SPN crossover has been playing in my head about a month now. Something Sam said in episode twenty of season five of Supernatural finally gave me the tools I needed to figure out which CSI and how to work it.
Storm Approach
Violence was on the rise outside and inside the police office. Just two days ago, a young officer returned from their swine flu shot and killed ten officers and two civilians before he was killed. A week ago, there had been a large group of people who went up in flames in a brownstone in midtown only to have nothing of the building or the bodies remain. People on the television were trying to call it a Hell Heist, but there was no such thing. Detective Mac Taylor was certain of that much at least. He was a God-fearing man yes, but there had to be a scientific explanation for the obliteration of that building that did not involve demons.
"What's the status?" Mac asked as he approached Detective Don Flack who was waiting for him. The day was overcast and the breeze was already picking up, threatening a frigid drizzle. They were outside of the city proper at an abandoned field. A small hill obscured the crime scene proper from view where Mac had parked.
Flack led the way towards the bodies. "Three dead bodies, but there's something you need to see."
Mac followed Flack up the small hill and stopped when Flack held up a hand. "Look at those two bodies." Flack indicated the two bodies farthest from them. The body farthest from them was a dark haired man who was a little taller than Mac. He laid on his right side, his back to Mac and Flack with his beige trench coat stained in blood. Mac tilted his head. He thought he could almost see through the body in one place. The man who lay in the middle of the three was on his back. He looked well over six feet tall with large hands and feet. His entire body was covered in severe burns; however, his torn and bloodied clothes were not burnt at all. Mac watched as Dr. Sheldon Hawkes carefully eased the third body off the charred remains of the second body. The third body was not burn at all despite the tight hold he had on the burnt body. His spiked brown hair was matted with blood from multiple head wounds without a single hair singed. None of this was the most unusual part of the entire scene.
"The shadows…" Mac squinted and looked at the ground. He wanted to get higher but the small hill was the highest point of the landscape. "Wings?"
"That's what it looks like." Flack surveyed the ground again. The dark haired man on his side had what looked like two molting wings protruding from his back in a profile silhouette. There were patches of feather shadows near his shoulder blades, from the patches protruded what looked like bony structures of two wings, and there were three feathers scattered about the bone-like shadow pattern. The charred body had two shadows extending out from under him, displaying two large wings full of feathers. The third man had no such shadows connected to his body.
The wind died down and they could hear a call coming from a squad car in the background. It was another hostage situation in an office building uptown. Suspect was seen in a state of extreme aggression. Neither Mac nor Flack acknowledged since they were too far away from the scene to offer immediate help, yet both their minds jumped to the events in the past few months. Overly aggressive people, bizarre acts against humans and animals. Now there were people with wings attached to their shadows without a cause for the wings to appear.
Mac started down the hill to observe the shadows closer. He could hear the local sheriff and one of the younger officers commenting about Hell Heists. Yet, the commentary became harder to ignore when Mac reached down and for the briefest of moments felt as though feathers brushed his gloved hands for a split second before his fingers touched the ground. Mac's eyes averted to the charred face. He moved his hand along the ground and sometimes almost could feel the wings but right when he thought he felt something the sensation ceased.
Carefully, he watched the shadow of his hand interact with the shadow of the wings. Pulling, he tugged a feather free. A curved shadow rested in the palm of Mac's hand, the shape gray against his white glove. The wind picked up again and the feather blew from the hand disappearing from view.
A distant rumble of thunder set the group into a flurry of activity to preserve evidence before the rain came.
The End