Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Was running away supposed to feel so effortless? Sure the terror of sneaking back into a house that he was unable to see as a home left his palms a sweaty mess. The note he left in Jazz's journal was his half hearted attempt to apologize for leaving her. He knew it wasn't enough. But the look of rage and horror on the faces of his own mother and father reminded him that this was for the best. He wasn't abandoning her, he was choosing to survive. To see Jazz again someday. Even if only from afar.

Easley phasing through her room's wall into what was once his own, he felt morose. One ghost fight gone wrong and Danny's whole life was upended. He wanted so desperately to ask his sister to come with him, it was a selfish desire he told himself. She had her whole life planned out and he... He had to run. He plunged his intangible hand through the floor under his bed. It took a bit of feeling around, but he eventually found the navy blue NASA messenger bag Sam had got him for his birthday. Danny had opted to use it as a just-in-case bag, much to Sam's annoyance and concern.

A lingering nail of regret was hammered into his chest, he hated that he couldn't trust his own parents. He opened the bag filled mostly with cash and air. Earned from a summer of customer service hell with Valerie. He barely took the time to be picky and gathered up some clothing and essentials. Finally he slid a music player that he got from Tucker into the pocket of his favorite hoodie. The player was an outdated type that still used discs, Tucker knew this. But Danny still cherished it. Adding some star stickers to it's black plastic in order to make it his own portable night sky.

He paid one last goodbye to the room and house that he had long since abandoned. Some small part of him knew, the day he died was the day he lost the right to call this place home. But at least for a moment, he could pretend like this was home. And allow a silent moment to cry.

>i<----------->i<

Sam never really felt "close" to her family. Yes, she loved her grandma, but her mother and father were often spared that same affection. She was never the girly type. Never very upbeat, never the type to fit into there mold. She felt nothing about abandoning her life. Tucker, however was a mess. She could tell that we was pretending that he was fine, mostly out of love for Danny and Sam. While Sam was tired of the plastic faces and attempts to "fix" her, he was there to "cover their tracks."

Sam didn't bother leaving a note, she had no love in her heart for her family of liars. For those that would rather burn all they are, than burn at the stake.

Tucker was already beginning the silent task of tiredly making peace with his choice. For Sam and Danny.

>i<----------->i<

Dash silently wandered through the halls of the school he was once crowned king of. A well long since poisoned, one that he too drank from. He drank to deny, to bury the unseemly truth. He too could never hope to be what his family wanted for him. All he could do now is walk silently to Mr. Lancer's classroom. Using the master key that he "borrowed" from the coach. This was his last goodbye, to the only adult to know the true Dash Baxter.

Lancer had three similar notes to his own on his desk. Fenton, Manson, and Foley had left some notes for their shared teacher. He didn't open the neatly folded notes, but he did place his under Fenton's. Who's note he moved to the top of the pile, Danny still had the habit of doodling constellations on whatever he wrote, it made Dash smile at bit. He had already placed some notes in Kwan, Valerie, Star, and Paulina's lockers. He had chosen to lie to his fellow quarterback and say he was just going out of town for a few days when he handed Pookie into Kwan's care. Kwan didn't know the situation was permanent yet.

Dash couldn't lie and say that he felt nothing, the kaleidoscope of emotions he was experiencing spoke to that. It was more so that his mind was being pulled in so many directions that he didn't know what to feel. He settled for numbness as he returned the coach's key to her office and began his walk to the bus station. A duffle bag close in hand.

>i<------------>i<

Sam and Tucker were the first to arrive, close to the frigid hour of midnight. A cold that was unable to pierce the worry in their hearts. Not unlike the icy blue of Danny's eyes. But still, around this time Sam was regretting wearing a skirt and Tucker similarly dressing his legs in cargo shorts. Regret was not something foreign to them, they still remember the day of Danny's first death anniversary. The banshee-like screaming that refused to stop until he couldn't scream any longer. It was one of the few things Danny refused to talk about.

Speaking of the half-ghost, Danny's restless form descended from the night sky. They largely ignored the sunken and toxic green eyes on his face. They both knew that Danny largely avoided sleep, the major reason that he was stuck at a mighty 5'11. Wispy white hair that refused to settle whipped about, reflecting his own nerves. "You ready?" He asked, almost praying that they would say no. His hands clammy beneath the hazmat suit he died in.

"Yeah." The two spoke in unison. Danny wasn't sure if it was releaf of horror that washed over him along with the twin rings of light. His selfishness or his selflessness? The heartening knowledge that they loved him enough to join him won out. He wasn't about to doubt his two best friends, the two his core never lost the desire to protect. Even now, that desire burned like a star, but unlike a star Danny was certain it would never collapse.

"Are you ready?" Sam asked with a softness that would seem rare to most others. It was the sentiment that counted. But Danny didn't really have a choice in that regard. Just as he couldn't decide the day his heart and core began to beat as one, the choice was already made for him. So he just nodded, reserved as it may have been to Sam and Tucker. It was no less genuine.

Dash who had been watching from a distance chose to make his presence known. "Danny, Manson, Foley." Danny spooked slightly, but Sam and Tucker failed to present the same response. "What are you losers doing here?" He already had a assumption that was largely informed by the bags they had with them. But still a large part of him hoped he was wrong. Fenton just looked at him with those sunken yet piercing blue eyes.

Tucker chose to challenge the large teen with a question of his own. "What are you doing here Dash?"

Dash ever the combative rudely replied, "It's nothing that concerns the geek squad." Dash had recently started to be more forthcoming with his enjoyment of Lancer's literature class over Phys Ed. Even flexing his broadened vocabulary when the mood struck him. It helped him feel more like who he wants to be, even if that wasn't the type of thing he would admit to aloud.

"Same as you." Danny said after scanning Dash over. "Just goin' on a trip." It was a horrible lie. Not that Dash could judge, he wasn't much better at lying. They were in the same position as Dash, one way ticket as far as the bus would take him. Danny probably knew from the moment he saw Dash. Despite his poor grades and impulsive tendencies, Danny was far from stupid. "As far as we can go." Damn it.

In a battle of wit, Dash knew he could never beat Danny. This loss served to reinforce that fact. "Mind if I tag along?" Manson looked disgusted at the thought. Foley chuckled like it was a joke. But Danny, Danny met Dash's eyes with his own. Meticulously searching for a hint of deceit.

"Sure, the bus leaves in a few minutes." Manson looked like she had just sucked on a lemon. Foley merely shrugged, likely too cold by this point to care. And Danny just sort of glided off like the ghost Dash knew he was. Just as purely Danny as only he could be. But also horribly dead on his feet.

>i<----------->i<

Danny's eyes remained solely focused on the blurred scenery passing by out the window. Silently watch for some unknown threat, toxically verdant eyes staring back from the bus window. Even as Tucker and Sam slept in his arms, he could not find it in him to rest. Sam's dyed purple hair silently rested on the shoulder farthest from the window. Tucker leaning in to him from the window faced shoulder. At Sam's insistence Dash sat in front of their shared seat, meaning Danny couldn't actually tell if he was asleep or not.

The Amity Park sign, came into view just as quickly as it fell behind them. Yet, still Danny failed to find the will to rest. His careful work as a protector had only begun. Even as Cavetown's Home, played gently in his ears, he couldn't rest. Dash turned to face him, powder blue and ice met. Dash did look a fair bit more rested than Danny felt. And though no words were spoken, Danny trusted Dash to keep them safe. At least for a few hours.

In the morning the fallout will take form.

Chapter Text

The first pale rays of day had began to descend upon the still sleeping Amity Park. Perhaps fitting inline with her auburn hair, Jazz Fenton was the first to awake in the house that had just lost one of it's occupants. No, it's not that she was the first to awake, it's that she was the only one to sleep. Given that she had the time, she opted to be a bit more slow about her morning routine. She went about gathering her day clothes and took some time to enjoy a nice warm shower.

Jazz did notice the lack of snoring coming from her parent's room. She also noticed the lack of Danny shifting around in his sleep, likely due to some lingering anxieties or a nightmare. Something Jazz noticed he had been doing with alarming regularity as of late. It made her worry. She would never admit it but some nights she lost sleep over it.

What truly caught her attention was the letter sticking out of her journal. She hadn't noticed it at first and her parents wouldn't have known that she still kept a personal journal. Nor would they have bothered to leave a note in the first place. That left Danny as the sole culprit, the same little brother who she never saw come home last night. Her parents didn't ask about him at all last night either. Her heart began to sink in her chest as she opened the letter.

Jazz, I'm sorry. I'm gonna be your selfish little brother one last time. I don't actually know what to write here. We argued and fought more than we actually got along. But I always knew I could depend on you. Sure, after the accident I wasn't entirely sure how you would react. But I knew that at the end of the day you, would always be my big sister. Please, don't forget that I love you.

I won't say goodbye, after all the dead hate goodbyes. So, until we meet again, Danny.

"That little moron." She couldn't hold back the tide of rage and sorrow.

>i<----------->i<

Lorance Lancer was a man who believed nothing could shake his fortitude after years of teaching. Then one of his students died but still came to school everyday, sat in the same seat every day. Until today, Danny wasn't coming back. The boy who plagiarized more essays than he actually wrote. Lancer wasn't stupid, he knew Danny was Phantom. It was hard to miss the clear line of absences correlating to the ghost boy's aprences. But he was helping people so Lancer turned the other cheek.

Lancer had students that ran away from home before. Some of the others did as well, it never got easier. Danny, Dash, Samantha, and Tucker. They were smart kids. He may have not always done right by them, something he has come to regret. But he hoped that those poor kids would be okay, that one day they could come back. He couldn't let it show on his face. His students didn't need to see the bottle containing his emotions break open.

He wasn't caffeinated enough for today, that much as clear. He read through Dash's note as he felt around for his coffee mug. It was mostly apologies for wasting his time, like he didn't sign up for that when he became the vice principal. But he could tell that it came from the heart. He never considered Danny or Dash to be selfish, but clearly they did. Danny's note spoke of him not wanting to waist Lancer's time any further on a, 'lost cause,' as he so eloquently put it. Even though his only problem with the ghost boy was something entirely out of his control. Something Lancer couldn't even fault the boy for, his selflessness.

The crash of his coffee mug shattering into pieces against the linoleum classroom floor shook him from his musings. For Paradise Lost's sake, that was his favorite mug too.

>i<----------->i<

Dash didn't like the quiet. It wasn't something the he equated with comfort. Extreme anxiety yes, but comfort, no... no it wasn't comfortable. It was all to similar to... no that wasn't important. Dash just had to focus on the sounds around him. Danny and his friends snoring behind him. The long gaps Danny was taking between his breaths . That was weird, like how does that work weird. Did he even need to breathe? Dash found this line of thought... odd. He should think of something else.

Dash felt a cold hand touch his right bicep. He grabbed it without thinking. "Your kinda hurting me Dash." It was Danny, he let go immediately with a long and heavy sigh. Dash turned to face the window, the sun was starting to rise. "You know, ya' never realize how far out in the boonies you are until you runaway from home." Danny chuckled nervously, Dash didn't. He was tired.

"I know what your trying to do, I don't want it." God he did though. He ached with the need for a distraction from his own thoughts. The painful spiral of despair without hope of seeing the sun rise again. Hopeless against the current, the waves threatening to paint the rocky shoals red with everything he was. "I don't need it." He didn't deserve it.

"Yeah you do." Danny's cold hand ghosted over Dash's shoulder before finding it's home. "You... you don't need to talk about it. If you don't want to." Danny was choosing his words carefully. He and Dash's relationship had somewhat improved since they were juniors. In the sense that Dash didn't take every opportunity to throttle him anymore. They were far from okay, but at the very least they could hold each other together for a bit.

Dash's chest heaved with another gravitationally crushing sigh. Danny could empathise with that level of exhaustion. "Why are you doing this?" Dash pushed back against the tide. But the briney force of nature pushed in equal measure. "You of all people shouldn't want to help me." Dash looked away from the cascade of passing trees. Danny's piercingly frigid eyes met his. Death by exposure had never looked so beautiful, throwing himself at harsh winter just for a moment of warmth.

"But I do." Please don't. "Isn't that enough?" Dash turned back to the window.

Holy fuck yes! "Not after what I've done to you." He stopped pushing away from the rocks, he would rather they take him. He shouldn't want for warmth. For Danny's undeserved kindness. Something had managed to snake it's way around his stomach and lower back. It was Danny. Danny was hugging him, just hugging him.

The rushing tide froze. Danny had frozen it before he hit the rocks. Danny's winter was far from cold, it lacked the loneliness to hold that cold. All it promised was repose, a chance to grow anew someday. To mend the cracks. "You aren't in this alone." Dash felt the tears fall from his eyes at Danny's softly spoken words. "We'll find a way to not fall apart." Even if Danny himself didn't believe those words, Dash had chosen to.

Dash met the smaller boy's hold with gentleness only a giant could hold. Embracing Danny was the easiest thing he'd done. His warmth seeped into Danny's bones and in turn did Danny's cold melt into Dash. As light needed shadow, so to did cold need warmth. "Yeah, I think we will." Danny's cold was a welcome distraction.

Chapter Text

The inevitable funeral was something that Jazz hadn't seen coming. Jack and Maddie Fenton didn't even bother to change out of their jumpsuits for the "occasion". Jazz had assumed that her parents wouldn't even bother attending the parade of lies that they had occestrated themselves. Jazz only attended the farce because it was something Danny likely would have wanted. She had opted to extenuate her mask of mourning with simple black dress that Sam had regifted her. It was truly nothing impressive, but Danny had made it his mission to add as many stars and constellations as he pleased along the skirt before the regifting. Her little brother had chose to express himself and for that alone she cherished the regifted dress.

She had also opted for some soft green leggings to combat the cold weather. Again nothing truly impressive, just a one off impulse buy. From the time she joined Danny on his mission to acquire his first binder. A joyous but nonetheless impossibly weighted moment for the burgeoning young man. She always found it strange how such seemingly meaningless things could come to mean so much in the wake of tragedy. Perhaps it was just a mournful form of nostalgia. One of the few experiences all humans shared.

Paulina had also shown up, likely at the behest of her father who had somewhat grown to tolerate Danny for some unknowable reason. Lancer had also decided to attend, his mournful face equally fake. And if one paid close enough attention they could see the Mansons glaring at the unfortunately pre-binding photo of Danny. The Foley's offering a silent prayer no matter how hollow it actually was. Both families missing the only possible reasons for their attendance. The Baxters had only bothered to show up to pass out flyers adorned with the face of their no doubt runaway son. They didn't even bother to pay attention to the funeral of some no account like Danny, simply wrapped up in the new Baxter family drama.

Even Danny's greatest foe had deigned to make an appearance, yes Vlad Masters himself was in attendance. Albet with a face of scathing doubt. Not bothering to keep up any pretence of empathy or sorrow. Entirely focused on the ever stoic Jack and Maddie. Silently picking the entire scene apart for what it was, a charade. An performance of mourning, a melodrama of melancholia. Even poor Kwan was here to for only one thing. Jazz entertained no delusions of what the true agenda was, to ascertain one answer. What happened, was Danny Fenton dead? And who he had taken with him.

You see Amity Park was a town like no other, it was a ghost town. Mind not in the truest sense of the phrase. It was a town where the buried never quite managed to stay as such. Truth's hidden always had a way of finding light, take the death of Casper High's previous Lunch Lady, Grace Lowe for example. The woman was fit as a fiddle until one day she died in the middle of her late brunch. A teacher who had recently fought with her managed to get ahold of enough water hemlock to kill a small elephant and gave it to Grace in an apology salad. The poor Lunch Lady was dead before she hit the table she was eating at. Ten years and some change later the truth came to light in the form of a vengeful and undead Grace Lowe.

The point is that everyone in Amity Park knew that if Danny was truely dead, he would be back and angry. But even as the dramaturgy reached it's conclusion, Danny made no appearance. Nor would he, Danny was already long gone. Not from his mortal slinky, but from Amity. With Sam, Tucker, and maybe Dash in tow. And Jazz knew it was time for her to hit the road herself, her only attachment to Amity had been Danny. Disturbed obsessions aside Vlad would likely support her endeavors, if only passively and financially. She would need the head start on her parents, knowing they were none to keen on letting Phantom escape them.

>i<---------------->i<

But let us take this story to another locale, to a dilapidated auto yard. And the home of one Bobby Singer a man who has quite literally been to hell and back. At the moment he was preoccupied with breakfast, a humble grilled cheese. Dean, Castiel, and Sam were currently somewhere in Michigan and were likely to call him shortly, potential hangover notwithstanding. God knows his boys had a drinking problem. The soft sizzle of cheese an accompaniment to the staticy sound of the morning news born of and ancient radio. "Reports of unseasonal blooms are coming in from all across South Dakota. At this time on answers to this bizarre phenomena have been discovered."

If it weren't for the profession Bobby found himself in, he likely would have payed that report no mind. Passing it off as global warming or something of that ilk, but he was a hunter and that was an omen. "The species of flower has been identified as Asclepias tuberosa, commonly known as Butterfly Weed." A flower that meant transformation beyond death and that meant ghosts. Vengeful spirits of bygone existences.

*Knock, knock, knock* The static had begun to overtake the news anchor's voice, drowning her out. "In _th-r ___s a _oun_ ---." The static had finally overtaken the woman's voice. *Knock. Knock. KNOCK* Someone was at Bobby's door. But that last knock had been something that sent a shiver up his spine, like if he didn't answer now. He likely wouldn't be living long enough to regret it. The static had begun to take on a more biting tone. Bobby found himself quickly rushing to the door.

"Well, it's about time. It's cold as death out here." A child with a too wide smile said impatiently. Now Bobby Singer had seen many, many things in his day. But nothing that struck him as quite so strange. The boy, girl... Kid was dressed in a three piece suit of all things. With hair clearly dyed a almost pastel blue and largely unkempt. "May I come in," the child stated, almost like the thought of being here was an insult to their very existence. The static once again grew louder before cutting off completely. All most as if Bobby's radio had finally had enough of it's own screeching and died. The kid had soft hazel eyes and a small mole under the corner of his right eye, normal human eyes the hunter noted.

"Make yourself comfy." He said as he ushered the child out of the cold morning air. The kid scoffed at his remark but found his way to the couch regardless. This left the man to attend to breakfast seeing as the kid had started curiously investigating a nearby stack of books. "You want anything to eat?" The kid shrugged as their stomach growled. Bobby rolled his eyes, "Pick a book and follow." The least he could do was feed the little brat before finding out what street corner they wanted to be dumped on. The hunter would also be sharing some choice words with the kid's parents.

The radio suddenly sputtered to life with an awful screech. The radio was playing music, Bad Moon Rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival to be specific. "Those're supposed to play music, right?" The kid asked not looking up from his chosen book, about possession. Well if that didn't flip any warning bells the kid asking aloud, "How do I eat?" Certainly did. Now Bobby had a choice, he could A) stab the kid. Or B) try not to anger whatever this kid was while interrogating it. Whatever it was. "Oh, never mind. Figured it out." It said softly after it swallowed.

"What did you say your name was?"

The kid hummed softly, "Don't have one." The kid said matter of factly. "But I know your Bobby Singer and that I've found you." It's head tilted slightly to the left with that same too wide smile. "But what I don't know, is where the Winchesters are."

Alarm bells were ringing in the hunter's head. This kid was looking for his boys. Nothing good ever came from someone trying to find the Winchester brothers. It was marginally worse when it was something inhuman hunting for them. "Why are you looking for them." He growled.

"I have a message to give them. From the Temporal One, to then be relayed to someone they have yet to meet." Bobby must have had a questioning look on his face. "My purpose is to herald, then to vanish." The kid's eyes were glowing a toxic and unearthly green.

"Herald what?" The man asked, without any lack of rage. "What's coming? Why them! Why my boys?!" He had to know. Those kids desperately needed to not be involved. Because heralds meant apocalypses. And those boys had lived through enough of those for one lifetime.

The child smiled a smile far too wide. "Because they started the end creation and left all the doors open. No telling what can come through an open door." As Bobby Singer saw into the abyss, it too saw deep into his soul. "You may want to pick up the phone now."

And as sure as the sky was blue, the phone rang. The man named Bobby merely sighed. "Damn it."

>i<---------------->i<

And in a little town located in Michigan. The phone was answered. "We have a problem." Said a gruff voice. Yet it was the voice of an angel. The Angel of Thursday, Castiel. To be precise. "A ghost problem."

And thus our story can truly begin. The Infinite are coming. The Pantheon is coming and may the gods help you all. And those poisoned gods will herald the end of that eternal expanse... Known as, the universe.

"The Goddess of Desires is coming. To eat your heart out. For when the first thing hungered, she was there. When the first thing hungered, she woke up." That's right my dear reader, she is coming, and she is starving. "Her desire may be enough to consume that Little Star. Or entire worlds." But ask yourself. If that is what she, the Goddess of Desires, Messalina is capable of... What can the others do? For she is an envious one, just as the humans she gave her gifts to are.