Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was very rare that Danny came across the spirit of an actual dead person.

Well, that's not quite true.

The ghosts that he faced on a normal basis, the ones that openly terrorized his town came from the Ghost Zone. They were usually green, ran on ectoplasm, and generally caused havoc. Occasionally there was one who drained emotions or life force or something like that, but there was always a way to stop them.

He was used to finding a ghost, knocking it around a bit and shoving it back into the Ghost Zone. Simple enough, even though it took time and energy and usually ended up with the people around him believing him to be an irresponsible and generally lazy person. Sucks to suck.

These ghosts, though – the strange ones. They arrived directly after someone's death and looked exactly like the recently departed. There were no green flames, trailing mist or glowing green anything. Strange, but not entirely unheard of.

There was quite a bit about them that alarmed him, though.

When Danny first encountered one, it (she) was confused, a little frightened.

Logically, he knew things like this had to happen – the ghosts had to come from somewhere – but it was a different story having the aftermath of a death thrown in his face.

She had cried on the porch, blood running down her face and hands in a reflection of the wound that killed her.

Danny had heard her crying on the walk back from school, saw the blood and was halfway through dialing 911 when he felt his ghost sense go off.

Jaw tightening, he slipped the phone back into his backpack. With unsure steps he approached her, still in his school clothes and what felt like ten pounds of books strapped to his back.

She didn't answer the first few times he spoke, though her sobbing decreased as he sat down next to her, tried to offer quiet comfort.

She was a picture of misery as she choked out how she knew that she was dead, remembered dying. It had happened so fast, the odd realization that a car had sped through a red light, was approaching her window too fast to stop. A loud sound and a sharp jolt as her head slammed sideways, but there wasn't enough time to register pain.

Danny remembered the click of a button under his palm, and a vortex of energy exploding behind his eyes, in each chamber of his heart. Fire racing through each vein and igniting the very breath in his lungs. Green.

The people inside her house descended into an argument, voices carrying through the white front door. She seemed to shrink into herself as the yelling continued, forehead on her knees. Her son and husband, she explained as she picked at the edge of her daisy-patterned blouse. They both tried to hide grief behind angry words. She spoke about her life, her hopes and dreams.

The blood on her face never dried and no matter how much she tugged at it, there was always a loose thread on the hem of her sleeve.

Danny listened to her story, ignoring the buzzing of his phone. The sun had begun to set when her small family approached the front door. He tugged the chill of his powers forward, slipping invisible and intangible before they opened it.

Pink and orange was creeping across the sky when he saw the young man, someone Danny vaguely recognized from school. A freshman, maybe. Someone he saw in the hallway between classes. He and his father stepped through the porch, their faces still red from the screaming earlier.

They talked quietly, silent for long stretches, but amiable. He looked away when they hugged. This was something private, he shouldn't be watching.

Danny turned to ask the woman a question but paused, the look on her face something between wistful and relieved. He could do nothing but sit in silence as a white light seemed to spread outward from her chest, lighting her up until it was so bright he could barely stand to look.

Between the span of a blink, she vanished, the glow winking out.

He stood, adjusted his backpack and made sure he was still cloaked by invisibility before he walked down the steps. He passed the two still talking on the walkway and  started home with a head full of questions and a strange feeling of apprehension.

He couldn't sleep that night.

 ---

There was a string of odd deaths, about a month later. The local news covered it religiously, theorizing a serial killer in the area. They were all older men, slightly overweight and were all golf players. They had been brutally struck around the face and neck with a thin, blunt object. Considering the location, probably golf club.

Danny swung by the course where the deaths had happened, hovering above the small crowd of people who wanted a look at a crime scene.

He spotted a flicker of movement in a corpse of trees a few hundred feet away, a dark figure watching. No one else seemed to notice, and he took that as a sign of something not quite right.

The figure was gone by the time he reached the location, branches thick and stifling. There were white and yellow balls lost among the roots and leaves, a thin rusted pole leaning against one of the trunks.

It smelled like something rotting and Danny's stomach twisted itself into unhappy knots when he realized that the lost, grubby tennis shoe still had a foot inside.

His ghost sense shrieked at him and he dived to the side, narrowly avoiding the whistle of a club past his ear.

The attacker's face was bruised and swollen, half his skull caved in and blood misting from a broken mouth. He wore a blue uniform, Snappy's Golf Course monogramed on his breast pocket, jeans ripped at the knees. Rage glowed in his eyes as he took another swing at Danny's floating form.

He reacted on instinct, leapt backwards and swung his palms up. A green blast shot from his hands, slammed into the man's chest and punched a cantaloupe-sized hole right through it.

The ghost's movements stuttered to a halt, brown eyes wide in disbelief. Danny mirrored his expression, mouth falling open with shock.

Neon green suddenly snaked up through the man's veins, clawed up his neck and face. He shrieked and lunged at Danny with the club again, the sound full of anger and pain.

His body struck the ectoplasmic shield Danny threw up and pale green lightning started to crackle against the contact. There was an impossibly loud scream and the man seemed to tear into pieces, dissolved while drops of ectoplasm spattered the leaflitter below.

The sound still rang in his ears a few minutes later when Danny finally regained his bearings. His back was pressed against a tree, arms wrapped around his midriff and shoulders hunched tightly. There was a the murmer of voices coming closer, and a part of him realized there must have been one hell of a light show – there were cameras only a short walk away.

He slipped into invisibility, mind uncomfortably blank with an exception to the echoes of that scream and the quiet splatter of liquid.

Danny had enough sense to transform back before entering his house, barely registering his parent's location in the lab from sounds bouncing up and walked to his room.

It may have been the weekend, but he didn't get to sleep until the next day's sun began to rise.

--

You showing up for movie night at sams place? -TF

not feeling it. -DF

I figured I'd ask. ttyl, man. -TF

Chapter Text

The early morning sun rose over Amity Park, brushing pink and gold upon the clouds, and casting a wane light across its structures.  Students were readying for school, cars already busy upon the roads.

In a park just inside the city limits, two figures stand, invisible to the human eye.

They walk together, speaking in quiet tones.

“The energy from the gauntlet has faded significantly, and we don’t even know if it’s still here”

The other sighed.

“Keep searching. The fact that there is any energy at all bodes well.”

They slipped forward, edging into the populated area of the city, easily staying out of sight.

Street lamps still arched over the road, casting yellow light on all below. The two passed under one, a twisting shadow absent from the ground.

There was a strange hum on the air, a sharp, yet quiet sound that grated on their nerves.

It was becoming annoying.

A gleam nestled in the shadows caught one of their eyes. Focusing on it, the taller stooped down, scooping it up from the cement.

“Hanahel, I found one of the gems.”

He felt a thrum of delight through their connection, an eager renewal of the hope to finish their task. Sachiel slipped the crimson crystal into his inner pocket, careful to keep his thoughts far from wishful.

Footsteps distracted them both, a pattern of noise from a nearby alley.

Silver flashed, long blades sliding out from their jacket sleeves.

Hanahel shot his brother a look, slipping around the corner first, tension heavy in the air.

“Spirit, fear not.”

Sachiel relaxed. It was only a wayward spirit. They would purify it and continue their search. He turned from the alley, trusting his brother had it under control. No need to frighten the poor soul.

It had been so long since angels had interfered on earth, at least a thousand years. It was interesting, inhabiting a vessel again and walking in this grimy place crafted by human hands.

He patted his jacket pocket, memorizing the signature of the gem and spreading his senses to attempt to find another one. A frown tugged at his face at the strange fuzziness around the edges of his senses.

“I am an Angel of the Lord, and I am here to bring you to Heaven’s gates.”

Hanahel crouched in front of the pale girl, eyes sad as her form flickered. She was newly dead, but something had scared her enough to remain behind. He could sense no anger within her, only the heart-wrenching fear reflected in her eyes.

“Take my hand, I’ll guide you.”

It was a reaper’s job to take a soul to their final resting place, but since the path had been overturned, an Angel could set it right. He pulled his vessel’s face into a gentle smile, holding out his arm.  

She squeaked, burying her face in her hands and pressing harder against the wall.

“It’s alright, I wont hu-ckkk-”

His view of the world quite suddenly went haywire, pain registering on his vessel’s nerves in a singing harmony.

He heard a scream, and another roaring flood of pain strung up the vessel’s leg. Hanahel lashed out with his blade, trying to open his eyes against the blood dripping into them.

He sprang upward, grace scraping down his vessel and clearing away the blood and torn flesh.

Looking down, he finally got a clear look at what was attacking him. Green fur blanketed what looked like a massive wolf, red eyes and a sharp snarl making obvious what its intentions were.

The Angel lunged forward, blade shining with holy light. The canine writhed backward, but was too slow to avoid the strike. Silver metal sunk deeply into the neck and chest of the beast, lighting it up with white light until every tuft of fur seemed to glow with it.

It let out a pained cry, thrashing as the Grace began to tear apart the energy holding it together.

The young spirit shrieked again, climbing to her feet and phasing into the brick wall, fleeing for her afterlife.

Sachiel heard the commotion and slipped quickly to the alley’s entrance.

He saw his brother’s quick take-down of the creature, bewildered as to how it failed to register on his senses. He reached out for it with his Grace, but the buzzing in the back of his skull only grew louder.

A flicker of green caught his eye, and he raised his own blade, fear appearing for the first time in millennia.

“HANAHEL, BEHIND YOU!”

Too late.

The Angel was bowled over, two wolves landing heavily on the soldier of Heaven and using claws and teeth against him. White light flashed brightly around the vessel, condensing back into his true form and preparing to flee.

The green claws slashed through the light like it was a physical thing, mouths clamping down on the spread wings below them.

Pain and terror rang through their bond, Sachiel’s own horror growing as his brother’s cries petered off.

He spread his wings, raising his blade,  first reaction one of intimidation toward the beasts. They paid him no mind, emerald fangs tearing through normally immaterial feathers of his brother.

A third wolf trotted out from the other side of the alley, ears turned to what was happening. The body of their fallen comrade was ignored.  

Sachiel leapt into the sky, flying high, far away from these horrible beings, to bring word to his brothers.

Already his fear and guilt was rocketing through their shared wavelength, concern and curiosity echoing back.  

--

Still not talking to me? -SM

 ...

You're being childish -SM

 ...

Whatever. -SM

are you sure you want to delete? yes/no

.deleted.

Chapter Text

The cold rush of his ghost sense was familiar, an unwanted but expected part of his morning routine.

He suppressed the shiver and continued eating his choco-flakes, watching his parents bustle about the house. They had received a letter a few days ago, some big-wig company wanted to meet with Dad about sharing a patent.

Apparently they’d be giving him a fee for the initial agreement, as well as a percentage of sales.

Who knew that inventing a toaster that created a pattern into the bread without burning anything was such a big deal?

Danny was more than a little amused at the fact they’d been recognized for a toaster instead of, you know, the whole clean energy from an otherworldly portal in their basement thing they had going on.

They’d worked out an agreement a year ago, to hook up most of the city to the converters in the lab - It had lowered energy bills by ridiculous amounts across the entire grid. People were generally fine with accepting that, on top of the ghost hunting as payback for all the damage ghosts put on the city.

He turned away from his parents, blithely ignoring their flirting as he finished his cereal. The chill was still present in his gut, growing stronger rather quickly.

A well-worn purple bag was thrown over one shoulder, books jabbing into his kidney. There was still a  good 45 minutes until his first class. Plenty of time to smash some ghosts and get to school in time. He absently rapped his knuckles against the staircase at the thought.

“Walking to school. See you later”

“Oh! Danny!”

He paused at his mother’s exclamation, the cool morning air already tasting of humidity and a promise of rainfall.  He closed the front door a fraction, turning to look back.

“When did you say school ended for you? Jazz said she wanted to take you on a trip somewhere after you graduate.”

A grin tugged at his lips. After his sister ran off to college, she was always trying to drag him places in her free time. Something about making their time together as quality as possible. A post-graduation trip was probably to something like a job fair in Chicago or something.

“My final exams get out on June 4.”

“Thanks honey, have a good day.”

He threw a hand up, walking out the door and promptly turning back into their yard. There was a nice little shed, frequently used for this very purpose.

He huffed a breath, pulling from a place somewhere under his solar plexus, the cold/warm/electric energy sparking outward and washing over him.

Danny sent himself and his backpack into invisibility with a thought, the wind still tugging at shaggy white hair as he arced up over the city and following the odd pulsing of his ghost sense.

The skyscrapers he flew around with gentle curves, thoughts meandering toward his sister and their old debate.

He had wanted to become an astronaut for ages, but after this whole ghost thing began rolling, he really couldn’t see himself doing anything else. The city needed defending. No matter how well-meaning his parents were, no matter the arsenal they packed, they were still bound by gravity and physics against beings who could ignore nearly every aspect of reality. Those weren’t odds he wanted them to face.

Not to mention, every time he left the city limits, there was a strange pang in the back of his head, like he was losing something important. Always something he could shake off, but it worried him. All the hypothesis about his alter ego flying around the internet, most of them talked about how Amity Park was his obsession.

He could scoff and reason circles around why this hero thing was a choice, a logical decision based on the moral ‘right’ but... at the end of the day, there was something that purred in happiness when he saw another ghost causing trouble. Something aggressive and playfully vicious that wanted to fight.

Graduation was approaching. Everyone and their mother was asking what he wanted to do with his life. His grades were scraping by at ‘average’ and he had no registered extracurriculars to speak of, and he didn’t really feel any desire to go to college (Not that he’d ever tell his parents that. They’d be heartbroken.)  

Jazz insisted he should get away from Amity Park, to do something other than hunt ghosts for the rest of his life. Part of him agreed - there was so much out there! But another huge chunk kept whispering about duty and responsibility and he tried very hard to ignore the part that hissed about tearing apart the idiots that tried to hurt what was his. 

Danny coughed, his ghost sense spiking unexpectedly. He blinked around the lingering pressure in his head, breathing out the thick puff of condensation pulling from his lungs.

Oh hey, a green glow in an alleyway. That’s not suspicious at all.

He dove down to the entrance, setting his bag aside and flicking back into visibility.

There were two green figures, furry and rather large. They were shaking, little yips and growls audible even from yards away. He could smell something a bit different. Something like iron and ozone, pungent when ghosts were generally scentless. (well, disregarding their breath. Some of them had foul mouths.)

“Hey! The furry convention isn’t for a few months.”

Well, that got their attention.

They were wolves, apparently. Or something like wolves.

There was blood covering their muzzles and forepaws, eyes glowing pure white. The one on the right opened its mouth and just wailed, ears pinned back and looking all the world like a puppy that had just been punished for something awful.

The second lunged toward him, staggering and pulling itself to all four feet unsteadily. There were sharp lines of light gleaming out from its fur. It snarled and leapt again, eating up ground and baring its teeth as it neared the black and white teen.

Danny flexed his fingers, an orb of green energy humming against his palm. He flicked his arm, the ball colliding with the Wolf’s forehead and exploding outward.

He expected the ghost to be thrown backward, maybe even shrug it off and keep running. What he did not expect, was for the creature to slide to a halt, shaking like a leaf as the white lines grew brighter and spread across its entire body.

With a crack like a gunshot, it expoded into green shards and goop, white light flashing outward in a small blast.

Danny threw up a shield, squinting his eyes against the thick beams. They faded quickly, leaving a tingling in his eyes and a strange sensation on his skin, like an itchy blanket.

The other Wolf tried loping away, tail still tucked down, but its own cracks of white started spreading as well, probably set off by its partner’s reaction. Another splatter of green against the far wall, and Danny lowered the shield.

There was a puddle on the ground, pale green and glowing only faintly. He assumed there had been a third wolf, that had exploded earlier. A cleam caught his eye, and he bent down to pick up some sort of long knife or short sword. Something stabby anyway. It sent a jolt up his arm and the smell of ozone increased. 

He glided inward, scanning the alley in curiosity, wondering what had caused them to detonate like that. He noticed a black mark on the cement, and looked down.

Following the pattern, he found a figure at the apex, sprawled on its back and blood absolutely everywhere.

Danny felt his stomach lurch, eyes widening.

The wolves... had they actually killed someone?

He lifted off, gliding in a wide circle to see the person from another angle. It was a man, face twisted in pain, but utterly still. The black marks looked like mangled wings chalked into the concrete.

Swallowing against his closing throat, he dove for his backpack, shoving the blade inside and scrambling for his phone.

White gloves had already punched 9-1 before pausing. They would trace the number, and he’d be the center of attention when the police investigated.

Danny bit his lip, gnawing on it for a moment before shoving the phone back and zipping up the pocket.

With a tense stomach, he waited invisibly for a passerby before tipping over a small metal garbage can. The young man startled violently, but, as hoped, peered into the dimly lit alley. When the man gasped and reached for his pocket, the half-ghost slipped away, heading toward school with what felt like lead in his stomach.

A quick transformation back, and he walked the halls, head down. No longer a target of bullying, but never exactly popular, Danny was generally ignored by his classmates and underclassmen.

He had never seen a ghost directly kill a human before. Sure, people had been injured, especially from collateral damaged or falling bits of buildings. The last time he’d known - really known, not just suspected that a ghost had targeted a human, was the alternate timeline with his evil other-self.

He wondered if the light show was because of that....maybe somehow killing someone made their energy unstable - or something.

Danny shoved his bag into his locker, pulling out a book and tucking it under one arm. The first bell rang, and he followed the crowd.

--

911, What’s your emergency?

I ah... I found a body... A dude, middle age, I...I’m pretty sure he’s dead. He’s not breathing, and there’s blood everywhere. Green stuff, too.

Chapter Text

Ripples spread through heaven, lights flickering with alarm, the sky filled with the frequency of celestial beings. Worried words, plans and traded glances. Even with a civil war on the horizon, there was little to do but turn their gazes toward the midwest of America.

There was something in that buzz of energy pouring from the place called Amity Park. Something that dampened their sight and dragged their wings down. How did they not see this before?

The creatures there, they were not unfamiliar.

Every angel knew of the strange Others that would fall through a rift in reality, easily crushed once the door to their world had closed behind them.

What were they? Some old god’s leftover creation, a dimension that sidled up next to their own. Its very energy was aggressive, but often ignored. There was no previous threat from it.

Now, though...

The threat was unmistakable.

Silent wings scoured the globe, pinpointing two sources, two crawling infestations of the Others. The smaller was targeted first, scouted and surrounded.

The only indication of danger was a few new stars in the sky, creating a wide circle around the property of one mansion in Wisconsin.

--

Skulker had been pursuing an oddly patterned deer through the forest, partial albinism having caught his eye. He felt something strange press down on him, through his armor, and turned back toward the oldest Half-ghost’s residence.

The man had been grumbling about paperwork only an hour earlier, his distaste for human company only barely overpowering his dislike for the busy work. To his knowledge, there were no experiments going on.

He was barely able to make out a flash of white and gold entering the roof from above, the stillness of night only heightening his concern. Even crickets had ceased their constant thrumming.

A flash of white light beamed outward through the windows, just before energy ripped outward. The very bricks were torn apart, a dome of green swiftly following, rising up and lashing outward in a sickly explosion.  

Skulker watched, speechless, as a blast expanded horizontally, a shockwave tearing down trees and flattening the landscape.

Even through the self-preserving intangibility and an automatic ecto-shield, he felt heat and energy from the wave passing through him, uncomfortable.

Sound hit him shortly afterward, a heart stopping crack-sizzle that would have destroyed any human’s ear drums.

From the ruins, three bolts of light struck upward, vanishing into the sky. His sensors detected the faint movement of stars above, pinpricks moving before twinkling out.

A fourth flash of light rose from the wreckage, pausing for a moment as if surveying the area, before following its predecessors.

He had zoomed in his ocular enhancements, able to snapshot a bright silhouette of wings before it disappeared.

A few beams of wood fall, sending another cloud of dust into the air, from the destroyed house.

His scans could not detect signs of life, or the cold-spot of a fellow ghost.

Fear jolted through his body, for once feeling every bit as tiny as his true form.

He turned away from the wreckage, flying fast toward Illinois.

--

Hello? Who is this?

Yes, I know him. He's a good friend of the family. 

What do you mean he-

oh god

Chapter Text

Tedious.

That was really the only thing in his brain, as the lecture droned on and on. Danny imagined that even the white-painted walls were sagging in exasperation, waiting for the clock to jump forward and ease this endless monotone.

He almost missed the days when Lancer was his main teacher. At least the man had some life, as outdated as it was. Obviously Trying Too Hard was much better than Not Even Trying.

The few notes he took had wandered off into nonsensical swirls and shaded-in circles, a small doodle in the corner depicting a rather overly tall Joan of Arc stabbing Napoleon through with a spear. For some reason, they both had mustaches and top hats.

Danny sighed, feeling the muscles in the back of his neck stretch a bit as he hung his head, bangs brushing the desk.

Once the adrenalin spike from his ghost sense had faded, a bone-deep weariness had set in. He felt it more often these days, as his ability to separate his two lives began to wear at the seams.

It wasn’t like he could fight crime at night, and attend school and everything would be fine.

There were actual repercussions, now.

Some guy getting mur-... killed by ghosts.

Property damage like woah, driving everyone's taxes up, new city legislation making the front page more often than not. 

His own future plans getting sucked away like some demented black hole of dreams.

Sam getting-

He stopped there, closing his eyes and leaning back, bright lights shining red through his eyelids.

His chair suddenly jerked, and he sucked in a breath, whipping around to see Tucker’s annoyed face.

The teen nodded toward the front of the room, and Danny obediently turned back around, sliding his arm down and reaching backwards, trying to act nonchalant.

A folded piece of paper dropped into his palm.

He opened it under his desk, one hand still pretending to write notes, while actually just scribbling loops and scratches in the same spot.

The paper crinkled against his thigh, familiar handwriting scrawling in bright blue ink.

“Still want to meet Tomorrow night? Yes/No”

Danny nodded his head, but absently circled the ‘yes’ and offered the paper back, his shoulder complaining at the odd angle. The teacher paused and squinted at him, thick glasses making her look a bit bug-eyed. The brown shirt and pants made her look a bit husk-like. Grasshopper teacher?

He heard Sam’s voice start a quiet whisper, but stubbornly ignored it, focusing on his notes, which had become even more indecipherable during his inattention.

Tucker was replying to her anyway, it wasn’t his conversation.

The lecture had turned toward agriculture and the burning of farms during wartime.

He changed Joan’s weapon into a pitchfork.

Considering it for a moment, he also added some action lines and shaded her hat a bit darker.

Yep.

Art.

The clock had finally reached the correct time, and freedom rang.

Who was he to deny its dulcet tones?

Danny had swept his notebook and pencil under his arm, and was out the door before most of the class was finished scrambling for their papers.

Doors were opening, bodies flooding into the hallway like some strange herd galloping down a canyon. There was energy in the air, people excited despite themselves.

Probably had to do with Exams being only a week away.

He yanked open his locker, shoving what he needed inside, and zipping it closed. The blade in his bag still seemed to hum shrilly, on the edges of his senses. Like one of those high tones that you could feel more than hear, but remembered being able to hear it when your ears were younger.

Some smartass had used that sound as his text tone early in the semester, and it had driven Danny nuts. Something about his healing had never let his ears become damaged enough to ignore that sound, so every time they got a message, he had tried hard not to leap out of his seat and just punch the kid in the head.

Thankfully, the sword was a bit higher than even he could perceive properly.

Danny swung the bag onto his shoulders, chewing absently on the tip of his tongue and resolutely pushing away images of the man sprawled in an alleyway.

The smell of iron in the air, a horrified face, frozen and - Nope. Nope nope nope nope nope.

Dash was bragging to his friends, something about a car. The broader boy had wizened up somewhere in Sophomore year. Still captain of the football team, and all-around beloved by the popular crowd, he tended to his own studies now, latent aggression worked off in weight lifting or after school on the field.

A police warning about criminal harassment and assault had left its mark.

Danny hitched the bag a bit higher on his back, aiming his steps toward home. There was a new piece of graffiti on the stone fence along Main Street. (more of a terrace, really. There were plants growing on top, and it kept back a hill from spilling onto the street) He paused to look at the sweep of lines and odd angles before continuing.

He wondered how people could get away with it in broad daylight. He didn’t remember the neon pink lines being there this morning.

Fast hands and fast legs, he decided, imagining some anonymous hooded teen leaping over fences and bolting away from sirens with a backpack of aerosol cans weighing them down. Reality was probably less dramatic, but he liked his version.

He could see the glow of FentonWorks, and the living room light was still on. His mom was still home, or Jazz was back extra early. His opinion was revised when he saw a black car pull up on the edge of the street. The engine rumbled, like a low growl or purr of some giant beast.

Jazz was definitely not the type of person to ride around in that. It didn’t look official, either. Government types tended to favor the sleek sedan, with tinted windows.

Maybe his parents were expecting friends?

Danny realized he had stopped walking, standing awkwardly in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at the car.

The headlights turned off, engine silenced, and two men in dark suits stepped out.

They approached the front door (Holy cow they were tall) and started talking to his mother. He couldn’t hear anything, but she seemed to be pleased to see them. One of them gestured to a small book.

The front door closed on their heels, and the conversation continued indoors.

Huh.

Jehovah's witnesses?

----

I really can’t see why you’re still meeting with him. He’s being a complete ass. -SM

He’s my best friend. Even if you guys are bitching at each other, I’m not ditching him. -TF

...Or you. -TF

Thanks. -SM

Is that sarcasm? -TF

….Sam? -TF

Chapter Text

Danny found himself crouching under the window, trying to act nonchalant, like he was looking through his bag or something equally casual that would warrant hovering under a window.

He even unzipped the bag and stuck an arm inside. Clever disguise, right?

The voices were muffled through glass and walls, the rustle of wind overwhelming what he could hear. Something comics never mentioned was that enhanced hearing didn't necessarily mean enhanced selective hearing.

An epiphany smacked him upside the head, and he made a face, incredulous at himself. This was his own freaking house, why was he sneaking around?

He swung his backpack up, letting it settle over one shoulder, and brushed dirt from the knees of his jeans.

The door opened easily, and he could see his mom already entertaining her guests in the living room. He shuffled in, kicking off his shoes and tossing his bag onto the stairs.

Just as it thumped into place on a step, he recalled there was, in fact, a sword inside, and winced. Thankfully, there was no audible tearing sound, and he allowed himself to focus all attention on the two men inside his home.

They were seated on the couch, close enough to be comfortable in each other’s space, just on the edge between professional and casual. The sharp suits probably enhanced the business-like feeling. After a quick glance-over, he was privately thankful that Jazz was away at college.

Between “Tall, green-eyed and handsome” and “Taller, shaggy and handsome” he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see his sister’s reaction.

(This coming from a purely observational standpoint, mind you. He never had a reason to doubt his sexuality, and even these guys weren't a tipping point)

 Seeing her date average guys was weird enough. There WAS a moment of narrow-eyed inspection, as he hadn't seen that shade of green outside people who were possessed, but his ghost sense didn't even flicker.

He lifted a hand in greeting, edging around the room. His mom brightened, turned and beckoned for him to join them.

“Welcome home sweetie! How was school?”

He forced a small smile, still eyeing the two.

“It was good. Nothing new.”

“Oh that’s good, I wanted to introduce you to these two. We’ve been emailing back and forth for the past week or so - They’re fellow ghost hunters, you see.”

Ah. Shit.

“Ah...”

He offered them a small wave, which the smaller returned, while the taller sent a friendly smile. Really, this was confusing. They were both huge, totally unfair.

“Nice to meet you, I guess. My name’s Danny.”

Tall-and-Shaggy nodded his head.

“I’m Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean. Good to meet you as well. Your mother was just telling us about some of your family’s inventions.”

Well, that solved it. He was getting out of here as soon as possible. He didn't want yet another ghost hunting team seeing the Boomerang smacking him in the ass. Depending on oblivious people could only go so far.

Danny started sidling toward the kitchen, and Dean shot him an amused look. Something like ‘It’s really obvious you want to run, but I’m not stopping you’

Part of him bristled, and he bustled around the kitchen, opening cupboards and pretending to deliberate on what to eat, while one ear was turned on the living room.

“Thank you so much for stopping by, I was really excited to see your notes on the difference between soul-based and ectoplasm-based ghosts.” There was a rustling of papers.

Danny crouched down behind the door of the fridge, glaring at the sausage links still trapped in the bottom drawer. He checked the lock, and they grumbled at him, glaring back. Dad was the only one who had a whet of trust for the little guys, the rest of the family having endured their tiny fangs and snake-like coils one too many times. Fire didn't seem to harm the suckers, but they started dissolving if left at room temperature for too long.

Jack had made with the puppy eyes until Maddie relented to letting them ‘stay with the rest of their food buddies’, under the condition that their housing remained sealed away to avoid contamination. (Thank everything holy, she was learning. No more ghost turkeys for thanksgiving!)

“We honestly haven’t encountered many ectoplasm-based ghosts outside of Amity Park, we mostly deal with the type that you can fight with salt and iron….and fire” The last one seemed to be an afterthought for Dude-Sam.

Still, Danny was intrigued despite himself.

He plucked up a jar of green olives, delicately fishing one out of the brine and popping it into his mouth.

There were those… dead-people ghosts elsewhere?

He privately winced at the terminology of his brain. There were only so many terms for ghosts he could think of, and he had kinda lumped them all into the same definition: Green, glowy, probably out to harass others, occasionally not.

He wondered if Sam would be entertained by the idea of a tall, pretty dude sharing her name.

Danny filed that thought away, tightening the lid and pushing the olives back onto their shelf.

Their conversation had continued without him.

“-so the energy from filtered ectoplasm actually disrupts their own natural frequency, resulting in actual damage to the ghost, that they can’t phase through.”

“That's fascinating! I wonder if they'd respond to strong magnetism, or sound waves in a similar way."

"Jack and I have been trying the magnets, but it's hard to get a strong magnet close enough to a ghost to observe the results."

"You mentioned that you fight them often. Are there any we should watch out for?”

Danny sighed, pulling out the half-full jug of chocolate milk. Here comes the accusations against Phantom….

“Well, you should keep something on you to defend yourself - there are ecto-guns or purely defensive items, like the Specter-Deflector, but the self-aware ghosts rarely target individual people. It’s the animalistic ones that you have to watch out for. Even they aren't much of a problem any more.”

….

Eh?

“So Fido wants to maul, and the people-shaped ones want to move boxes?’”

Danny rolled the cap back on, shoves the jug back into place while taking a sip from his glass and peering around the corner to watch the proceedings. This was new, coming from his mother. 

She gestured to something.

“I included the pamphlets about basic ghost information and safety, as well as my personal notes on the subjects.”

What Pamphlets?

“Sweet! Our very own Monsters Manual.”

“Thanks a ton. Want us to leave the notes? We’ll be in town all week, and can pick it up later.”

Dude-Sam (He already had a friend Sam, two people with the same name is weird!) waved away Maddie’s enthusiastic thanks, saying she had provided a ton of information already online, it was only fair they returned the favor.

“Besides, our methods are pretty much inconsequential. Salt lines against domes of energy? There’s no comparison.”

Danny quietly cursed himself for zoning out earlier, but had an idea that half their conversation bounced from the emails that he hadn't read, anyway. 
He took his milk out into the living room, heading toward the stairs. The kitchen excuse wouldn't last much longer.

“Hey buckwheat.”

He paused. Really? Of all the nicknames.

Danny turned, staring at the green-eyed one. Dave? Dean? Something with a D.

“What’s your take on the whole ghost business, while these two are busy nerding out?”

The man gestured to his brother and Maddie, who were bent over a notebook and taking turns pointing out things. Fast friends, apparently.

Danny took a slow sip of his chocolate milk, mulling over his options.

On one hand, he could agree that ghosts are evil, while on the other… well, Mom didn't really phrase it like that, did she? She didn't go on a rant about their evil nature, or how destructive they could be.

He swallowed.

“They’re… interesting, I guess. Act a lot like people, for better or worse.”

The man threw him a casual grin, standing up and straightening out his suit jacket.

“See a lot of them, then? Ghosts, I mean.”

Danny regarded him warily, wondering if the sudden movement was meant to be an intimidation tactic. It certainly didn't work - Many ghosts he faced were several times the normal size of what they should have been. After punching what looked like a were-jaguar the size of a van in the face, it was a bit hard to be intimidated by normal people.

Not even touching on Pariah Dark, or even Walker, who seemed to switch sizes constantly.

“Yeah, sometimes. They pop up at school a lot. It’s been awhile since anyone got hurt from the appearances.” He paused, wondering if he should even continue with the thought.

The next words were tentative.

“Phantom is usually quick to drive them off.”

The man nodded, slouching against the door frame and rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. Not intimidation, then.

“Sammy’s told me a bit about that Phantom character. We’ll probably look into him later.”

Danny took another drink, feeling curious.

“You don’t seem very passionate about the ghosts.” D-something quirked an eyebrow. Danny rephrased. 

“I mean, You don’t sound like you’re talking about monsters.”

The man hummed, looking… melancholic? Maybe he was misinterpreting body language.

“These guys, the Ghosts here, they bug people, and damage buildings, throw the town into another dimension, but none of them seem to go out of their way to hurt or kill people.”

Danny wanted to mutter something like ‘Yeah, ‘cause I kick their butt before they have a chance to execute their dastardly plan’ but remained silent.

“The ghosts we hunt down, they actually kill people. It’s almost nice to find a monster that just annoys people.”

D-something shot him a cheeky grin, but it fell too quickly to be genuine.

Danny didn't bring up possession, or Skulker’s plan to skin him and mount his head on the wall, or a sword that forced living your worst fears, or having happiness sucked away. If Mom was the one briefing them on ghosts, they’d learn.

He figured their conversation was over, and headed up the stairs. He snagged his bag, careful not to slosh the milk, and glanced down.

Green eyes met blue, carefully considering on both ends.

He closed his room door, locking it to be safe, before dumping the sword on his desk and flopping onto his bed.

He scrunched his eyes shut, violently ruffling his own hair before curling around a pillow, just breathing.

Today… Today had been eventful.

He needed to decompress.

Some part of Jazz’s lectures wiggled in his mind, and he turned his face further into the blankets, letting the memory of this morning resurface.

With the sword quietly buzzing on the edge of his senses, it wasn't hard.

The man had been wearing a suit, and the green goo around him suggested he’d been killed by ghosts...but had given as good as he got. The light show couldn’t have been random, and the sword just felt strange.

Why were the Winchesters in town? They were ghost hunters, apparently, going after ghosts that killed people. How would they have known about the body? From the sound of it, they’d been in town all day, and had been emailing Mom for days. How the heck did he remember their last name, but couldn't freaking remember the green-eyed dude’s proper name?

He tapped away on his phone, shooting Tucker a message. 

The only reason he knew he was drifting off was the sharp jerk back into reality by Tucker's return text alert. 

He vaguely heard the front door open and close, the rumble of an old car engine start up.

Danny pushed the phone to the edge of his bed, setting the alarm to an obscenely early hour.

His brain and body were fried. He’d study in the morning.

Exams started tomorrow, right?

No wait, that was next week.

Homework, then. Homework in the morning.

Wasn’t he meeting someone?

Tucker, probably. 

---

Ever heard of the Winchesters? They stopped by FW. Apparently ghost hunters. - DF

Somehow I ended up on guns and police records. -TF

No relation to Dean and Sam Winchester, right? - TF

That’s their names, actually. - DF

Yikes. I’ll send you a link. -TF

 Be Careful. -TF

Chapter Text

There’s a type of sleep where dreams come easy, the body sinking into a cloud of images and conjured sounds.

There’s a type that feels restful, darkness wrapping around the sleeper and letting time drift away.

Unfortunately, between random ghost attacks and his own parents bursting into his room unannounced, Danny had adjusted to the third type of sleeping; the kind where you didn’t realize you were asleep until it registers that the lighting was wildly different than you last remembered.

Maybe he had dreamed, but they always vanished from memory just as his eye opened.

And so, as his phone buzzed and chirped a melody, Danny stared blankly at the ceiling, waiting for his mind to reboot.

It was still dark out. Why was he awake? His phone said it was Tuesday morning.

The chatter of his alarm was silenced, and Danny let his eyes water in a wide yawn.

Electronics at his desk blinked innocently in the dark, temporarily lighting up his wall in green or red. Everything felt quiet, still in a way that wasn’t quite peaceful, but far from malevolent.

Stretching, he felt a satisfying crackle up his spine. He ignored the itch between his shoulderblades as he pulled his shirt over his head. The jeans from yesterday could stay.  

The hinge on his door creaked slightly, and the tiles on the bathroom were pleasantly cool under his feet.

The usual ritual commenced, eyes still bleary with sleep.

His lower back itched.

He scratched it.

Reaching up to his toothbrush still lodged between teeth and cheek, a smear of color caught his eye.

Under his fingernails was something dark, almost black.

Danny fumbled for the light switch, taking a moment to spit.
Yellow light flooded the bathroom, and his stomach dropped at the sight of what was unmistakably blood.

He twisted around, squinting against the light. There was a wide band of dark red painting the length of his spine, smears of dried blood reaching around his sides like crackling stripes.

Danny brushed a palm across back, gingerly rubbing away some of the liquid.

There was a tender spot, a bit raised like a recently-healed wound.

Nothing open, thankfully.

A shower and a thorough inspection later, Danny peeked into his room, half expecting someone to lunge out at him. He lit up a ball of energy in his palm and let the green light flood his room.

A silver blade glinted from his sheets.

Incredulous was an understatement.

Danny picked up the blade, by its solid handle, turning it around.

“How did you get out of my bag?” he murmured softly, glancing at the bag where it had been contained the day before. .

He almost facepalmed.

At some point in the night, he had opened the bag up and dumped the contents onto his bed. There was an open notebook with his own sloppy handwriting.

“follow tucker’s link. do homework.” as well as crumpled paper and a fair amount of pencil shavings.

Thanks, self.

Way to keep in mind that swords and sleeping definitely went together.

He leaned down, placing the sword on his nightstand. The shirt was balled up and thrown into the trash. He tore apart the bedding, making sure there were no blood spots he needed to take care of.

With that mystery solved, Danny flicked on the lights to his room and turned on his computer.

Homework.

What a way to start the day.

Part of him was buzzing away happily. This was supposed to be the last assignment of the year. Everything coming up was just review for exams, and then he was free!

He didn’t have honors or special mention or anything, but he was passing all his classes.

Graduation was such a nice word.

Somehow the energy from that thought drove him through the questions, words coming easy.

He heard something.

The back of his neck prickled.

Danny whipped around, half out of his chair before he realized his Dad was in the doorway.

Jack grinned at him, two mugs of something steaming in his hands.

“Burning the midnight oil, I see. Care for some hot chocolate?”

Danny sank back into his chair, a smile coming naturally.

“Woke up early, actually. But yeah, I’d love some.”

The man strode into the room, stepping around the tangled sheets still thrown across the floor.

“I’m actually just finishing.” Danny offered, reaching out to take the warm mug between his hands.

He quietly relished in the heat, breathing in the steam with his eyes closed. Something seemed...off. The smile his father gave wasn’t as boisterous as it usually was, and he hadn’t gone on some wild tangent about whatever he had been working on.

Danny peered up through his eyelashes as he took a sip.

Jack was rolling the mug between two hands, a tight frown tugging his face into something unfamiliar.

“You alright?”

His dad looked up, almost startled at the question.

He wouldn’t meet Danny’s gaze, though, and started staring back at his mug of hot chocolate. Alarm bells started going off, but he pushed them aside. His leg started bouncing anxiously. Just wait for whatever Dad had to say.

The older man took a breath, letting it out in an explosive sigh.

“You see… Last night, we got a phone call. Vlad, my old buddy, he… He’s gone missing. They think he’s dead.”

There were a few beats of silence, where Danny’s brain processed this. It seemed like the gears were just spinning, unhitched from each other and whirring uselessly.

Vlad...missing? How would they even know? The man went on excursions into the ghost zone as often as Danny used to miss classes.

How would they suspect he was dead, if he was just missing? He was a billionaire. Wasn’t going on unannounced vacations kinda what they did?

His dad continued, voice strained like something was tight in his throat.

“Preliminary reports say that he had a ghost portal, and it had malfunctioned. It… well, we’ve gone through enough simulations on the computer about portal safety.”

Jack tried to grin wryly, but it turned into a sad grimace, and he hid his face behind the mug, gulping at the scalding liquid.

Danny was still staring, heart pounding in his ears. There was a high-pitched ringing somewhere, and he couldn’t tell if it was in his head or coming from somewhere else.  

The man’s face from the alley swam into his mind’s eye, and suddenly visions of ghosts getting fed up with his smarmy manipulation popped up. He would fight back, Vlad was strong.

But… the portal.

They sat in silence, tension clawing into his muscles, blue eyes focusing on nothing in particular as his mind churned. There was no way. This was Vlad Masters, Plasmius.

Danny heard a faint crunch, and glanced down. There was ice floating in the chocolate drink, and the steam had long since departed.

There was a sense of detachment, like ‘Oh, well, Ice Powers are running amok. Dad is right here to see it, oh well.’

Danny took a sip.

It wasn’t nearly as good cold.

The mug was set aside.

The ringing was louder. He wondered if his dad could hear it.

Danny gently pushed his keyboard away from the edge of his desk, delicately shifting papers around.

There was a faint sniffle. Danny ignored it.

Instead, he let his mind blank, concentrating on the sharp geometric lines of the items on his desk. He really should clean more often. He could make a grid out of it.

A stack of papers here, the pencil precisely parallel. Markers arranged by color.

Oh, his moniter wasn’t centered.

Danny leaned out of his chair, reaching out to adjust the display.

A hand caught his arm.

He turned, eyes wide and blank. It felt like his breath was caught in his chest.

Part of him wondered if he was even breathing anymore.

His dad tugged him, and he let the faint pressure guide him out of his chair, onto the bed next to his father.

“You can cry, you know. I already have.”

Danny turned his head into his dad’s arm, shaking his head slightly.

He felt a hand ruffle his hair gently. Still, there were no tears. No greif.

Just this strange...blank feeling.

Like his organs had been scooped out and the empty space left to dry.

He swallowed.

“Do you want to stay home from school today?”

There was a long pause, and Danny almost shook his head.

The idea of going to school like this… listening to the lectures and pretending nothing had changed…. it twisted unpleasantly in his gut.

He nodded.

“Alright. Print your homework, and I’ll drop it off at school later.”

Something warm pressed against the back of his hand, and he opened it reflexively.

The half-finished mug was tucked between his fingers.

Danny nodded absently, automatically taking a sip.

Part of him realized the moment when his dad left the room, but he couldn’t be sure when exactly that was. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours later.

He finished the cup and stood, wobbling for a moment.

He clicked ‘Submit Assignment’ and made a note to let his dad know he didn’t need to drive to school.

With a slow breath, he shuffled out of his room, down the stairs and into the kitchen.

He accepted a tight hug from his mom, the mug held between them like a tissue-thin barrier.

He saw that she had made waffles and bacon, the rich smell making him feel a bit queasy.

It was still… 4:46 in the morning.

He rationalized that it was just too early for breakfast.

Danny didn’t protest when a plate of food was set in front of him as he sat down at the table.

He picked at the food, separating bacon into strings of meat and fat without eating either.

There was no way Vlad was dead.

Missing, he could believe. Hell, he could believe the idiot was in space somewhere, trying to possess an asteroid or something equally ridiculous.  

But dead?

Even in alternate universes, alternate timelines, the man was always around.

Annoying, clingy, aggressive, broken, but always alive.

He felt his throat getting tight and swallowed roughly, pushing it away.

Soon enough, it’s 7am, and his parents were headed for the door, saying something about a lawyer and further investigation.

He waved them off, accepting more hugs and words that seemed to float over his head.

A long time was spent on the couch, staring at the TV. It wasn’t even on, just a blank black screen.

His thoughts felt like they were molasses, oozing slowly and unproductively.

At one point, he heard his text tone chime from upstairs, but couldn’t muster the energy to get up and check.

There was a knocking at the door.

He got up, and checked the peekhole.

The two men… The...Winchesters? Tall and Taller.

His hand hovered over the doorknob, wondering if he should explain that his parents were away.

Danny ended up sitting on the stairwell, listening to a muffled conversation beyond the door, and the faint purr of an engine driving away.

He leaned back, draping himself over the stairs with all the fluid flexibility of a teenager.

Somehow, he fell asleep.

---

When he woke up, the light had turned golden, long shadows cast through the curtains of the living room.

There was something banging around in the basement. His interest piqued, Danny climbed off the stairs (Why on earth was he sleeping on the stairs?) and padded toward the basement door.

Just as he was turning the doorknob, the memory of this morning struck.

Vlad missing/dead, his parents gone for the day.

Part of him hoped that the noise was Vlad screwing around, and Danny was moments away from a ‘Just kidding, this was part of my plot all along!’ kind of rant.

He phased through the door, gliding down the steps and peeking out.

His stomach plummeted again.

The faint ray of hope was shattered, leaving behind an ugly frustration bubbling.

There were two people, unfamiliar in black suits, poking around the portal.

They each had a strange white glow bubbling around them, like an aura that couldn’t quite decide what form it should be in. The black-haired one was a woman, from appearances.

“This doesn’t make any sense.”

Danny clenched his fists, ready to step out and confront these trespassers. Spirit or human, the portal wasn’t a public attraction.

“The first rift destabilized so easily. What makes this one different?”

Rift?

The first one?

There was that ringing sound again. He was sure it was in his head.

And then, this strange blanketing pressure, as if he was flying hard with the wind when it suddenly changed directions, buffeting into his ears and eyes.

With a flicker of aura lashing out, one of the people suddenly changed locations.

Something clicked.

The portal mysteriously exploded.

They destabilized a rift.

It was THEM.

Danny wasn’t even aware of his transformation, but it was with white gloves that he grasped the man’s head, slamming it forward into a wall. There was a crunch, but he hardly cared.

A shout of confusion, and the woman was bearing down on him with a silver blade.

He dove to the side, rage swirling up into shivering balls of green energy, flung haphazardly in her direction.

The energy scattered on the lab’s ghost-proof walls, but the pressure-switch had moved the woman behind him. Danny twisted around, lime green energy creating a forcefield around him.

The blade sank through it, slowing the blow dramatically, but not deflecting it.

She pulled back, and Danny noted that the aura flares looked more like bird wings flapping than random distortions.

They regarded each other for a moment, just before Danny dove to the side, slicing outward with a line of energy.

The man from before yelled in pain, clasping a hand to the wide wound opening up on his torso. The blade in his hand lowered, and the ringing grew louder in Danny’s ears.

He winced, the sound setting his teeth on edge. He resisted the urge to clasp his hands over his ears.

Each of them spread their wings, the limbs translucent as colored saran wrap, but clearly layered with innumerable feathers.

Danny bared his teeth, fists lighting up in a dangerous dark green.

The wings flapped, and they vanished.

It felt like his heart was pounding a mile a minute. Tense was an understatement.

He waited for them to reappear and engage him again, the energy crackling fiercely around his fists. The ghost portal was humming mildly behind the thick metal doors his parents had blocked it behind.  

A minute passed, nothing.

There wasn’t even evidence that the two had been there - even the blood was gone from the ground, and the wall where he had broken one’s nose. (Possibly even their face. He couldn’t recall quite how hard he had hit)

He drew a shuddering breath, standing upright again.

Danny let the energy fizzle out, listening hard to his surroundings.

There was an engine outside, and the front door opened and closed. Familiar voices let him know that his family was back.

With a faint curse in his mind, Danny leapt up through the ceiling, hovering in the bathroom and closing the door as quietly as he could.

He got the shower running, and let the water’s sound cover the static of his transformation.

“Honey! We brought back pizza!”

His mom’s voice echoed up the stairs.

Danny phased out of his clothes, stepped into the shower and let the hot water pound onto his shoulders.

Anger still bubbled in the pit of his stomach.

He barely refrained from punching the tiled wall.

---

Missing you at school. Ghost trouble? -TF

I assume you’re not making our meeting - TF

Please tell me you didn’t confront the Winchesters. -TF

Call me ASAP. Worried. - TF

Chapter Text

The pizza was delicious, but that wasn’t really a surprise. The fact that his parents didn’t insist he talk about why he was glowering at his food was probably more of one. He supposed that as long as he was actually eating again, he could glare as many holes in his food as he wanted.

Danny excused himself from the table, gnawing on a crust while he rinsed his plate and pushed it into the dishwasher.

His phone chimed again, and he bolted up the stairs, barely hearing his mother’s well-wishes for sleep. Danny remembered that he was supposed to meet Tucker earlier today, and never even got out of the house.

Still, there was an energy quickening his bones, jumping around the back of his head like so much static. Something fierce and angry, eager for a target to leap after. What was on his friend’s mind.

He threw himself onto the bed, scooping up his phone and clicking swiftly through the recent texts. Yes, from Tucker, two from Sam also inquiring about his wherabouts, assuming ghosts. He felt a pang somewhere in his chest, something sad and angry and just a little guilty.

Danny held down one of the buttons, waiting for the phone to begin ringing before tucking it between his shoulder and ear. He pulled on a robe over his damp tee shirt, raking fingers through still-wet hair and plopped down in front of his computer.

There was research to be done.

The mouse scraped against his desk at the speed he was going, opening up old ghost files and the program that let him slide through the backdoor to one of his parent’s databases - to check on their collection of information. A green line blinked innocently at him, waiting for search inquiries.

He paused. What else did he have, aside from teleportation?

“Danny, is that you?”

He blinked, turning automatically toward the voice in his ear.

“Yeah, It’s me. Hi, I’m alive and fine at home.”

There was a bark of laughter on the other end, twisting into a gusty sigh.

“Well, thanks for that. You could have texted me earlier that you would miss school.

“I know, I know, sorry. Listen, I need your help.”

“Listening.”

“I’m doing research right now, but I want to meet up with you tomorrow after school. Vlad is…”

He trailed off, tapping his fingers against the keyboard. Wondering what would pop up, he typed ‘Teleportation’ into the inquiry and let it run.

“..well, he’s in trouble. I’ll tell you more later, but I met the ghosts that did it. I think they’re trying to do the same to me.”

“Wait wait wait wait. Slow down, back up. Vlad’s in trouble. Okay, I get it. ‘No one hurts my arch nemesis except me’ It’s weird, but I get it. What happened to him, and what are the ghosts trying to do to you?”

The list was massive. Apparently teleportation was a fairly common ghost trait. He noticed a new column to the far left. W.J. What was that?

“They blew up his portal. He’s missing.”

Danny was careful not to mention the strange assumption that everyone thought he was dead. There was a long silence from the other end.

“...Okay. Wow. Didn’t expect that. You alright over there? How’s the portal?”

He clicked ‘W.J.’ and started browsing entries with that column. There was a fair few. Most of them didn’t really strike a chord with his memory. Woman in White? He knew Walker was in all-white, but couldn’t believe that anyone could mistake him for a woman.

BuruBuru, Death Omen, Death Echo, Revenant, Shojo, Specter, Vengeful Spirit… He clicked on the first one, out of curiosity for the name more than anything else.

“As far as I can tell, the portal is fine. They were talking about how ours is harder to destabilize. Which is…. good, I suppose. Still, I wish I could figure out WHY they wanted to blow up the portal. As far as I can tell, ghosts love the thing. It’s hard for them to come to the normal world from the Ghost Zone otherwise...”

//Buruburu//

A ghost born from Fear. It strikes fear into its victims, which then spreads to other humans nearby, creating a ghost sickness. The sickness starts as mild anxiety, and over 48 hours, grows to paranoia and hallucinations. In the final stages, the victim suffers a heart attack.

Tends to aim the sickness at people who use fear as a weapon.

Weaknesses:

1) Salt and burn the bones of its original body.

2) Reenact the Buruburu’s death, on the spirit.

(Example: Luthar Garland was road-hauled, creating a Buruburu. Using iron chain, the act was repeated on his ghost, killing the ghost and neutralizing the sickness.)

3) Can dissipate the form with iron - only lasts a few minutes

4) It cannot walk on holy ground.

“Hey, you still there?”

“Sorry Tuck, I got distracted by the updates in my parent’s database. Some really weird stuff. I can’t tell if they’re just extrapolated legends, or actual types of ghosts.”

“Types?”

“Yeah. The names aren't very helpful.”

“Unlike Inviso-bill?”

“I thought we agreed never to mention that again.”

Tucker snickered.

“I’ll check out the new additions later. You were saying the new ghosts wanted to destroy the portal. Maybe there’s something big going on in the Ghost Zone?”

Danny hummed, clicking over to ‘Revenant.’

“Thanks for mentioning that. I bet they’d know about what happened to Vlad as well.”

Tucker made a quiet noise, the faint click of a keyboard audible over the phone.

“Good luck with the research tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow at school, yeah?”

“Yes, and thanks. I’ll email you what I can remember about them.”

“Awesome. Should I let Sam know you’re alive, or will you do that on your own?

Danny paused, leaning back from the computer. He switched the phone to his other ear, leg starting to bounce again.

“I’ll… let her know.”

“Thanks dude.”

Danny rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes tightly.

“Yeah, no problem. See you later?”

“Yup! Happy hunting.”

The line went dead, and he tossed his phone onto the desk with a clatter.

He chewed at a spot on the inside of his lip, eyes scanning uselessly over the text of this new article. His mind was still buzzing away. What should he say?

Danny retrieved the phone, hitting ‘reply’ to one of Sam’s texts and toying with the keys.
What should he say?

Finally, he growled, punching out a quick text and throwing the phone onto his bed, turning back to the computer and clicking out of the new entries. He’d read them later. There was a niggling in the back of his head, that this was bigger than any of them could handle, and he really shouldn’t be involving his friends.

A few hours later, and he was no closer to finding the strange ghosts in his parent’s database than he was traveling to the moon. The anger leftover from this afternoon was starting to curl up around his spine, sitting low in his gut like a lead weight.

Finally, he decided to sleep.

Twice during the night he jerked awake, the faint mist of his ghost sense dissipating.

The first time, he leapt out the window before he could really take stock of his surroundings, and couldn’t pinpoint where the feeling was coming from.

He wasted a few precious hours circling the town, scouting for whatever ghost had gotten close enough to be detected. He could find nothing.

The second time, he was half awake, but by the time he was rolling out of bed, it had already winked out again.

Danny punched his pillow, cursing ghosts that couldn’t just pick a time during the normal day.

On the bright side, he did get a few hours of sleep after that, and was able to wake up the next morning with only minimal bleariness.

Of course, yesterday’s events happily sucker-punched him right in the middle of an early cup of coffee.

Splendid timing, as always.

It seemed his mind couldn’t decide on ‘Denial’ and ‘Anger’ and just decided to flip-flop between them. The first was currently winning. They hadn’t found a body, and there were no news reports of what the house looked like, or how they had decided on the man’s ‘missing’ status. Until he saw proof, the halfa was off flaunting his giant purple football somewhere in the Ghost Zone, waving his cape around and pushing ghosts into following poorly thought-out plans.

Egotistical bastard.

His dad was picking at his toast, still looking down in the dumps and tired as all get-out. Maddie looked equally exhausted, but was flipping through the book the Winchesters had given her and appeared to be entering data into her laptop.

Part of him wondered if they’d ever grow suspicious of his lack of interest in a car. Their home was a fair distance from Casper High, and he often left right before school was about to start, but no longer was marked down as tardy. Did they even notice these kinds of things?

Either way, he had promised to attend school today.  

The door clicked behind him, and it was only a transformation and quick flight away.

Maybe he could swing by the cafeteria and grab a strawberry milk before classes started.

There was no shame in that, those things were awesome.

--------

The first few classes were painless, review review like he had anticipated. By lunchtime, ‘Anger’ had taken a turn, and Danny had taken it out on an old folder in the back of his locker. He had gotten some strange looks, smelling strongly of burnt plastic and smoke.

His classes were about the same. More reviews. He felt at this point, they either knew the information or didn’t. It was a bit annoying to see every teacher using the same techniques of exam overviewing.

At one point he saw Sam heading toward him in the hallway, and ducked into the men’s bathroom. It wasn’t cowardly, he just…. didn’t want to talk to her.

Right.

Lunch rolled around, and his turkey sandwich was just as dry as every other turkey sandwich they served. Extra mayonnaise and mustard packets only could do so much to help.

Danny had perched himself in a shadowy corner of the school grounds, tucked amongst some roots. The previous class had taken a vote, and they’d be taking their science exam tomorrow, instead of next week.

It was nice, he supposed, that he could finish ‘exam week’ a day early.

Tucker spotted him. Well, to be more accurate, Tucker remembered where Danny liked to hide during lunch, and followed his memory.

He twisted to see his friend, watching as the other boy plopped against the tree next to him.

“Turkey again?”

“Yeah.”

“Any news on Vlad?”

Danny shook his head, taking another bite.

“Rough. What happened, anyway? You were all ominous last night.”

He sighed, scuffing at the dirt with his heel.

“I dunno, Tuck. Mom and Dad got news that he went missing, and for some reason everyone assumes…”

His friend nudged him with an elbow.

“Assumes?”

“Well, they think he’s dead.”

Tucker turned completely, lowering his chicken nuggets.

“Seriously? And you’re not halfway to Wisconsin already?”

Danny hung his head.

“I know, but exams are next week, and there’s been weird stuff happening with ghosts lately…”

“Those kinds of things never stopped you before. Sounds like you’re making excuses”

Danny rubbed his face with his hands, sandwich laying forgotten on his lap.

“Someone died, Tucker. I found someone’s body, and it really looked like ghosts had did it.”

His friend was silent for a moment, voice hesitant when it returned.

“Here in Amity Park?”

He nodded.

“Woah.”

They shared a moment of pensive reflection, staring at their own lunches, before Tucker’s smartphone buzzed with a text message. He pulled it out, whisked through the security measures and read it aloud.

“Going to gym tonight with Valerie. Tell me if Danny pulls his head out of his ass.”

“From Sam, I assume?”

“Who else would be that snarky toward you? Why is it taking so long for you to make up with your girlfriend, anyway? It’s almost been a month.”

“We broke up, Tucker.”

“WHAT?”

Danny took a bite out of his sandwich, the furrow in his eyebrows making his displeasure obvious.

“So all this back-and-forth communicating through me was between angry exes, and not a bickering couple? Aaah, that’s so lame.”

He sagged down the tree, tossing a piece of chicken into his mouth. Extra Barbecue sauce, because there’s no such thing as too much of a good thing.

“What happened, and why didn’t you tell me. I thought I was your best buddy, dude.”

Danny finished his sandwich, twisting open a bottle of water. He wiped the spilled drops onto his jeans.

“Look, I thought she told you already. You guys still hang out, right?”

“Well yeah, but we do other things, like bowling, movies and arguing about diets. You’re only the topic of our conversation like, 45 percent of the time.”

He managed a huff of laughter.

“Yeah, well, after the two of you got hurt a few months ago, I guess I got into overprotective mode.”

Tucker tilted his head.

“I don’t remember that. I mean, obviously I remember the hospital, though I wish I didn’t. Hot nurses or not, that place freaks me out.”

Danny waved his hand like he was brushing away a cobweb.

“Sam kept putting herself in MORE danger, like she had to prove herself, and I ended up rescuing her. I guess she got angry, and we both said some mean things. I said we should break up, she agreed.”

“Apparently not as agreeing as you thought.”

“Yeah, well…”

Danny crinkled the plastic of his water bottle, watching the light refract.

“Why not just talk to her?”

He shot Tucker a baleful look.

“I tried that, Twice. One ended up with her insisting that we weren’t actually broken up, and the other was mostly more angry yelling.”

“That’s weird. That doesn’t sound like Sam. Any signs of ghostly interference?”

“Not everything can be blamed on ghosts, Tucker.”

His friend adjusted his beret, slipping on a wry grin and leaning back against the rough bark.  

“And yes, I did check.”

“Knew it….Buuuut I suppose since this is the ‘admitting everything at once’ stage, I suppose I should tell you that my parents are dragging me off to vacation. I’d refuse and stick around for you two, but It’s Hawaii.”

Danny raised an eyebrow.

“No man, by all means. That sounds awesome. Get a tattoo or something, and some pictures of yourself failing to surf.”

“Aaaand I’ve kinda been taking my exams early this week, so I’ll be leaving this weekend. Like, day after tomorrow, weekend.”

Danny grinned.

“Was that an invitation?”

Tucker sniffed haughtily.

“Pshh. I don’t know what you mean. I mean, why on earth would I invite my best friend to play video games until unholy hours on a school day? Especially since we’d be gorging on the greasiest of junk foods while doing so. Who DOES that? Weirdos, that’s who.”

“I get enough of the monologuing from Technus, man. Cut that out.”

He was finally starting to lighten up, a real smile tugging at his lips. Tucker shot his own grin, the back of his mind crying victory.

“So, tonight? My place?”

“Tomorrow’s just another review day anyway, why not spend my last Friday with you in a sleep-deprived stupor?”

“Wise words, my friend. Wise words indeed.”

Chapter Text

As promised, there was video games, pizza, ridiculous amounts of other junk food and a small stack of movies that they never actually started.

Through experimentation, they discovered that Danny's ability to enter a 'video game world' was, in fact, a specialized power and not an extension of intangibility.

After the fourth time ending up under his desk, tangled in cords, Tucker gave up on the idea of playing the game from inside it.

After the sixth accusation of cheating, Danny agreed to play fair and use a controller, instead of entering the game.

Around 7pm, Tucker's parents came up with a large pizza for the two of them, not realizing they had already ordered their own. The teen graciously accepted it, saying it was his new personal pizza, and Danny could have the other one.

"Any pizza is a personal pizza, as long as you try hard and believe in yourself."

As the night wound down, turning into morning, their playing had become less competitive and more ridiculous. They spent nearly twenty minutes trying to stack inventory items on top of each other, and see how far they'd fling when their characters jumped in like a leaf pile. There was a moment when Tucker couldn't breath for laughing so hard, when his 'belt of invisibility' glitched with his character, and acted like a hyperactive hula hoop.

"So how will you get your diploma, if you're not even sticking around for the ceremony?" Danny asked, trying to find the rumored 'invisible bridge' that should have linked levels 2 and 5 over a river of lava.

Tucker's character bounced up behind him, shoving the avatar into the lava, mashing the 'taunt' button as Danny's character burned.

"It'll come in the mail. I completed all the classes and exams, and gave a valid excuse. For all their posturing, there's really not much they can do to withhold a diploma without the person being in like, police-level trouble."

Danny scowled, slaughtering a few newbies milling around, boosting his experience points and rushing at Tuck's Avatar. His controller was tossed to the couch, arms flying up in disbelief when Tucker sidestepped, sending Danny's character plummeting once again into the lava.

"Seriously? That's freaking stupid. What the hell." Tucker just cackled at him.

He poured himself a soda, briefly entertaining the idea of pouring it over his friend's lap in revenge. No, one instance of cleaning sticky shit out of delicate electronics was enough.

He flopped on the couch, deliberately throwing his arms out in Tucker's face, pretending to yawn and ignoring the protests. It turned into a sputtering cough when a handful of popcorn was shoved in his face.

"Dude, that got up my nose!"

He phased out, intangibility letting the crumbs fall to the floor, shaking his head to get them loose.

Danny didn't even bother to check his phone when it chimed a text alert.

"Your parents?"

Danny turned his head slightly, side-eyeing him.

"Nah, Sam."

Tucker pursed his lips, opening his mouth. Danny cut him off.

"I know, I know, we should make up already."

"Actually, I was going to say you should pass me some more pizza, but if it's already on your mind…"

"Liar."

"You wound me. Shut up and fix your problem."

Danny watched as Tucker turned to the side, putting his foot up on Danny's shoulder and pushing until the blue-eyed boy was sliding off the couch.

He let himself flop down into the carpet face-down, stretching his arms out.

"I don't wannaaaa." He whined, kicking his feet.

"Oh my god, Danny. Stop being a child."

He wiggled on the carpet, pulling the bowl of popcorn toward him.

"For the love of -" Tucker set his controller down, bouncing off the couch and standing over Danny.

"You have three seconds. One."

Danny stared up at him balefully, deliberately shoving some popcorn in his mouth.

"Two." Tucker put his hands on his hips, looking unimpressed.

"THREE!" He bent down grabbing his friend's ankles and yanking the teen backward. Danny yelped, kicking automatically and spilling the popcorn, but Tuck only dropped him for a second, leaning down and scooping him up over his shoulder. His ghost half had made him rather light, even as a human. He'd been compared to a preteen girl once, much to his dismay. He was taller than Tucker now! This wasn't fair!

"OI! Lemme go!"

Tucker snatched the phone up off the table, wobbling a bit from Danny's thrashing. He shuffled into the guest bedroom, throwing Danny onto the bed and grinning when the bounce flung him off into a wall.

"No getting out of this with ghost powers. You can come back after you call her."

A head of dark hair poked up over the edge of the bed, looking betrayed.

The door clicked shut, and sounds from the other room told Danny that his friend had gone back to playing video games.

He climbed onto the bed, burying his head in the pillows and flopping his arm over to where his phone had landed. He fumbled around for a moment, before clicking it open and turning so he could read it.

Yup. More texts from Sam.

He really wished it was as easy as he had explained to Tucker during lunch. If it was just a safety thing, he'd be fine with his mom giving them training with weapons and stuff. He played with the buttons, typing some nonsense for a while while his mind wandered.

Danny cleared the message, starting over.

hey. you free for a call? -DF

Part of him wondered how long it would be until a reply. Apparently, Sam had her phone ready, and replied with a positive.

He groaned, pulling a pillow over his head. He didn't want to call. This was such a stupid idea. Tucker was a jerk.

Danny jumped, his phone dancing with vibrations as his ring tone beeped out a melody. He had the sudden urge to just break it and pretend he never contacted her.

He answered the call.

"Hullo?"

"Danny? You wanted to talk?"

He hummed, replying honestly.

"Not really."

Sam didn't reply, so he elaborated.

"Tucker's annoyed at us, and demanded I make up with you."

"And you don't want to."

"Not really." Her voice had been soft, disappointed. Something in his chest twinged.

"I'll assume you don't want to get together again, as well."

"Not really." She huffed a small laugh.

"Are you going to keep repeating that?"

"... not really."

He couldn't help the small grin crawling over his face. He played with the downy feathers he could feel through the pillow's cloth, plucking at a small fuzz of down that had escaped. Her sigh definitely sounded amused. There was lead in his stomach, at the memory of what made them split in the first place. His grin faded.

"What you said before, do you still mean it?" His grip on the phone tightened.

"Which one? The 'I'm going to college, with or without you' or the bit afterward, or the bit after that."

"The last one."

"Yeah."

Danny felt his knuckles ache, and realized his fist had been clenched tightly. Deliberately relaxing it, he cleared his throat.

"And, you don't regret it?"

"I was pretty harsh, and I probably could have said it better. I still mean it, though I regret the delivery."

"Ah."

He swallowed, listening to the sounds through the phone as she moved around. She might have been in the kitchen, he could hear running water. Maybe in the bathroom.

"Can I explain why I said it?"

Danny shook his head into the pillow, murmuring a quiet negative.

"I can guess the reasons, Sam. It's not hard to imagine. Mostly I'm surprised at how calm you're being"

"Calm? What do you mean?" She certainly sounded puzzled.

"Your texts have been pretty angry."

"Oh."

There was a loud beep, and he flinched away, eyeing the phone. Danny tentatively brought it back to his ear as Sam started talking again.

"I didn't even realize I came across that way. Mostly I was just teasing."

He didn't reply.

"I suppose from your responses, I should have guessed you were mad at me."

He wanted to say something like 'Gee, ya think?' but he just hummed agreement. She laughed, and he felt a stab of annoyance.

"So all this time we thought we were arguing, and it was a misunderstanding? That's pretty funny. I mean-"

"Sam," He interrupted, "This isn't a misunderstanding. Tucker wanted me to call, and that's the only reason we're talking."

"What? Why?"

"I already told you why. I'm sick of being jerked around, and you keep saying…" He wouldn't say 'insensitive,' that was too weak. "Stupid shit. At this point, I don't even care if you apologize."

"Danny, what are you-"

His stomach was tight, writhing around like upset snakes. He felt sick.

"If I'm dead, then you're a necrophile, and that's some pretty fucked up shit that I don't want to think about. I'm done. We're done. We broke up, and that's it. Goodbye."

"Danny wait-"

He hung up.

There was a long period of staring at the ceiling, shakily taking deep breaths. He cursed softly, flinging his phone off the edge of the bed, and grabbing an armful of pillows. He rolled off the other side, wedging himself between the wall and the bedframe.

The sounds of gaming continued for a few seconds, before pausing.

Tucker rapped lightly on the door, before opening it.

"You done?"

Danny groaned, sticking a hand up and flipping him off.

"Everything good?"

He waved his hand emphatically, and his friend laughed. The bed bounced as Tucker jumped onto it, pulling a pillow under his chin and peeking at his friend making friends with dust bunnies. His black hair made it really obvious how dusty it was back there.

"So when I come to school tomorrow for my last day, we're all going to be friendly again, right?"

Danny sighed, pressing his face into the down fluff. Tucker stared at him for a moment.

"We're not going to be friendly?"

He gave a short nod. Already, he was feeling guilty. Tucker's last days in Amity Park, and he was making everything worse.

"C'mon, dude. You're going to be king of the dust bunnies soon."

Danny tilted his head, looking up at his friend inquisitively. Tucker gave a small smile, reaching down and plucking a wad of lint from his shirt.

"I promised we could play more if you called, and there's half a pizza calling your name."

Something warm fluttered in his chest, gratitude swirling up with relief. He reached up, accepting Tucker's offered hand and flopping onto the bed beside him. He laid motionless, staring at the ceiling while dark hands plucked more dust from his shirt and hair.

However, it's hard to not react when a ball of dust makes a valiant attempt to be shoved up his nose.

"AGH! You ASS!" Danny flailed his arm, brushing at his face with the other. Tucker cracked up laughing, not even bothering to fight back when he was shoved off the bed, and took a pillow to the face.

"WHAT IS WITH YOU AND SHOVING THINGS UP MY NOSE!"

Tucker didn't even respond, shouting something unintelligible and bolting out the doorway. Danny bounded out after him, a pillow in each hand. He cuffed Tucker around the head, triumphant when the blow sent his friend toppling over the couch.

"Okay, Okay! You win!"

Tucker yelped when another pillow smacked him in the gut, flailing as a body vaulted over the back of the couch, pillow reaching forward to clamp over his face.

His voice was muffled as he slapped Danny's cheeks, pushing his face away. Both legs came up to shove into Danny's gut, lifting the taller boy clean off him.

"I said you win! I submit!"

"I heard you the first time." Danny grinned, steadying himself on the back of the couch. It was a bit uncomfortable being balanced like this, but if he breathed shallowly, it wasn't a problem.

"Want to switch games?" Tucker yawned, keeping one arm up in defense in case Danny decided he wanted to try smothering again.

Danny phased intangible, dropping to the floor and gliding back up to his feet before resuming a substantial form.

"Do you still have Mario Party somewhere?"

"Like, all of them. Do you want us to hate each other forever?" Tucker fixed his beret, climbing to his feet and wandering toward the game cabinet.

"That's not the ONLY result of that game."

Tucker turned to him a dead stare.

"Okay, okay. No Party. Some sort of FPS?"

"Pick a number between one and twelve."

The rest of the night was spent gaming, the two of them tapering off only as dawn became visible through the windows. With each hour that passed, Danny felt the warm curl of happiness. Tucker was his friend, and knew him. There was something glowy and delighted in the back of his head from being known.

With an explosion paused on the screen, the two of them caught a few hours of sleep before their alarms kicked them back into consciousness for a day of Friday classes. Both of them grumbled about being bullied into stacking suitcases by the door, but neither really minded.

He did well on his Biology exam and lunch was spent with Tucker, recounting some of the more hilarious moments of last night. No mention was made of Sam or the phone call, and his last class got out a few minutes early.

He watched as Tucker was picked up by his parents, the back of their car completely packed with bags that hadn't been there this morning, and his friend looked a bit smushed once the door had closed behind him. They waved their goodbyes, and promised to text as cool things happened.

Ten minutes into his walk home, his phone chimed with a message.

Getting gas in Amity Park! Wow! Scenery! I'm so amazed! -TF

Danny fought down a grin, typing back.

I demand souvenirs -DF

He strolled toward his house, past the grafitti again. There was a black X through the pink swirls, the thickness showing in how much had dripped down the cement before drying. A spot of color caught his eye, and he spied a neon blue circle, with the same swirls as the original pink version, decorating the inside of an alley.

He took pictures of the two, sending them to Tucker.

Did you notice there is a tag war going on? -DF (picture attachments)

Kinda cool. I noticed the pink one, but not the blue. Are there more? - TF

Danny pocketed his phone, slipping into the alleyway and making sure no one spotted the white rings sweeping over him. He hitched his backpack higher, diving into the air and spiraling upward. He didn't see any more as he looped downtown, but he did find another X-ed pink one on the back of a gas station.

And here we see, the subtle war between gangs of amity park. The Black Xes demand submission from the Pink Panthers, but to no avail. -DF (picture attachment)

I saw a blue one on our way out of town. -TF (picture attachment)

It was blurry, but still recognizable, the swirls painting an otherwise black stretch of road. Danny alighted on top of a cheap motel, pointing his phone at the pink marks on the roof. A loud rumble caught his attention.

He glanced down, spotting the recognizable black car of the two that had been at his house earlier. Win-something. They parked the car, talking quietly as they entered the same room.

Curiosity or privacy. Curiosity or privacy.

Danny leaned his head back, letting his body slip into invisibility as he dove off the roof, phasing through the window of their room.

He politely averted his eyes as one of them stripped off a shirt, heading toward the small bathroom. His mom's pamphlets were on the small table, a duffel bag open on the floor.

He did a double-take.

Those certainly didn't look like ghost weapons.

He drifted closer, holding his breath and making sure his ice powers were firmly tucked inside.

Yeah, those definitely didn't look like ghost weapons. He could see a box of rounds, very normal gun rounds, sitting beside the bed. There was a shotgun, two pistols and… holy shit, a machete?

Danny dove under the bed, half phased through the mattress when the short-haired one walked across the room, right through where Danny had been standing moments before. Danny covered his mouth with a hand, staring at a rag that was tucked under a considerable collection of knives.

That was definitely not ectoplasm.

Chapter Text

There are times in your  life when you realize you should have done something different. For instance, one memorable instance in Tucker’s involved pretending his harness was securely fastened on a roller coaster, when he had hidden the undone snap under his leg. The coaster had taken off, and he realized about halfway through the first loop that yes, that snap was quite crucial, and he was probably going to die. He spent the rest of the four minutes convinced that his mortal life quite very near to being at an end, and he really should have eaten that double-bacon cheeseburger during lunch, instead of feeding bits of it to seagulls.

Another instance is when Maddie Fenton realized - halfway through bringing her fist down atop the stapler - that her hand was, in fact, still in the path of the machine. She jerked away, but the momentum still clipped her, and a quick trip to the hospital assured her that stapling fingers wasn’t as uncommon as one would think.

Danny had one of those moments as he crouched under the bed of two men that, two minutes ago, he thought he could trust to be, at the very least, not serial killers. Ghost hunters, sure. Crazy, possibly. He had assumed his mom would not associate with murderers of real people. He also assumed that he would be safe enough under the bed, invisible and intangible.

That is, until his phone began ringing.

It had felt like his heart stopped.

The cheerful jingle continued for a moment, before he dove for his pocket, panic erupting in his chest and enveloping his mind. Thick boots approached the bed, and he fumbled with the phone, gloved hands slipping on smooth plastic.

The phone dropped to the carpet with a small thump, just as the muzzle of a gun was pointed right into Danny’s face.

He stopped breathing, stopped moving, stopped everything.

Sharp green eyes peered under the bed, sweeping carefully. The black gun shifted as well, moving from the position right at his forehead, to somewhere near his chest.

Danny held impossibly still, pulling hard on all aspects of his core, praying that no amount of cold would leak and give away his position.

A hand reached out, and somehow his tension escalated.

It picked up his phone, and the man sat up, standing. The ringing silenced.

Danny swallowed, taking a quiet, shaky breath and staring at the carpet below him. Phone or not, he had to get out of there. That was far too close.

He dove into the floor, paranoia gripping at his hindbrain.

The wind wasn’t even a problem, as Danny refused to drop back into visibility and out of intangibility until he was safe in his room, door locked and blinds closed. Rings of light washed over him, the fuzzy static changing his hair to white, reverting his outfit to normal wear.

Danny sank to the ground beside his bed, leaning against the frame and letting his racing heart slow down. Another shuddering breath, and he fisted his hands in his hair.

Why had he left his phone? They’d know he was there, they’d come back to his house!

Shit shit shit shit shitshitshit SHIT!

What was on his phone?

Contact information, whoever was calling. His past phone records, too. HIS TEXTS! What had he talked about? Tucker, event times, ignoring Sam’s texts, did he mention ghosts at all? Not that he could remember. When was the last time he cleared his history?

Danny leaned his head against the wall, looking up at the ceiling.

The two men, Tucker had mentioned them by name in some texts, had thought Danny had confronted them.

He rolled to his feet, almost lunging toward his computer chair. Tucker had sent him a link, right?

There! The email.

A double-click later, and images filled his screen.

The PDF that opened was one he had expected, but dearly hoped not to see.

Police reports, news articles, photographs, all of them featuring their past guests.

His mind connected the dots as quickly as he could comprehend what he was reading. They had a pattern, an attraction to supernatural rumors. His mom had been in contact for days before they arrived.

It felt like ice was wrapping around his heart, far more venomous than when his frosty core had been overfilled.

Guns in their room, blood cleaned from knives, getting into the house and talking to his mom while Dad was away.

He quickly sent it to his printer, readying a highlighter.  The machine clicked its displeasure at the sudden work, spitting out the web pages obediently.

Danny slunk down the stairs, finding his mother sipping away at a glass of wine in the living room, a book sprawled open on her lap.

“Mom.”

His voice was sharp, anxious and intensely focused. This was serious, he didn’t have time to beat around the bush.

“The guys that came over yesterday - the Winchesters. They’re dangerous.”

As she looked up, he slid the thin stack onto the book’s pages. Mug shots stared up from the paper, green highlighter ink drawing her eye downward. The glass of wine was lowered to the table beside her chair.

“They’re serial killers, and I think they’re targeting you.”

--

Their faces stared up from the sheets of paper, horizontal bars in the background showing both their height and situation. Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester.

Their charges ranged from breaking and entering to bank robbery and, most importantly, multiple cases of murder. They often posed as FBI, arriving in an area and focusing on one or two families. They spent between a day and a few weeks in the area, before riding away and leaving gruesome bodies in their wake.

Torture, Murder, Ritualistic deaths and desecration of bodies. Serial killer psychopaths, registered as dead but obviously not.

“Ah...yeah.”

Danny took a breath, ready to defend his statement, but it felt like the wind had suddenly cut out from his sails. She was agreeing? No defensive reasoning? No denial? She knew?

“What? What do you mean?”

His mom leafed through the sheets of paper, scanning the titles and highlighted parts.

“I know they’re dangerous. I’ve seen this report before.”

His eyes widened at her casual speech. She wasn’t worried? This.. this was seriously bad news! They were murderers! Human killers! His face was complete shock as she shuffled the pages in order, tapping their bottoms against her book to straighten the pile.

“I’m glad you’re looking out for me, sweetie, but I have things under control.”

She offered the packet back, and he took it automatically, feeling numb.

Danny looked down at it, at the parts he had highlighted on the first page. They had more kills to their name in real life than he did in Halo.

And his mom was….FINE with this?

The shock finally became too much, and he sagged down onto the couch, covering his face with one hand. He tried desperately to process this, to figure out how this could possibly be okay. His heart was pounding again, a headache starting to grow.

“Danny, are you alright?”

He felt a hand brush his arm, and he slid his own to the side enough to peer up at his mom. Her face was certainly worried, but not about the right thing.

“Under control?”

She nodded.

A spark of incredulous anger flickered to life. Here he was, fighting off ghosts that wanted to take over the world, barely scraping by in school, and she was inviting serial killers over for storytelling? SERIOUSLY? How could she do this?

“How could you do this?”

“Do what, Danny?”

He shot up, sidestepping her outreaching arm. The packet of papers fell in a crumpling heap to the floor.

“How could you be so careless! Are you even taking this seriously?”

Violet eyes darkened in warning.

“I told you, I have this under control.”

“You keep going on about how ghosts are scum, why can’t you understand that you have to be careful around people, too!”

“Enough yelling, Danny. I understand why you’re worried. Calm down and trust me on this.”

No, he had enough. He’d protected them from powerful ghosts for years, dealt with shady government agencies trying to tear his parents down, and Vlad constantly sliming into their household. Everything was building up on his shoulders, and now? Rubbing elbows with known murderers!? His parents were oblivious to the point of idiocy, and it was pissing him off! He could clearly remember the heart-stopping fear he had felt, with that pistol pointed at his face, knowing that it was loaded to kill. He didn’t want his mom to have that fear.

“How can I trust you, when you’re acting reckless and stupid!”

The last word hung in a sudden silence. He still felt the frustrated anger clawing at his throat, but he couldn’t figure out how to continue, or take back that word. His mom’s reply was quiet, a dark hiss that promised consequences if disobeyed.

“Go to your room. No internet.”

He swallowed, throat tight. This wasn’t going as planned.

“Fine.”

He turned on his heel, stalking toward the stairs. He could feel an electric crackle between his fingertips and scowled, pulling back on the powers that begged to be let loose. He could hold his temper. He dearly hoped his eyes hadn’t flashed green.

“You had better be in your room when I check on you. Don’t you dare sneak out tonight.”

He paused at the foot of the stairs, squeezing hard on the wooden handrail. He hadn’t planned on it. There was no telling when those two - the Winchesters - would stop by.

“Fine.”

By the time he got to his room, he was practically biting back a scream. He could feel the wisps tickling the back of his tongue, a potential rush of released power and rage. It tasted like lightning and copper.

He took a deep breath, focusing on his icy core. He needed logic, patience and calm. Quiet focus. Less anger, less outrage.

He didn’t dare hope that those two wouldn’t look through his texts.

His luck was never that good.

Chapter Text

Outrage flickered through his veins as he paced back and forth over his floorboards. He tried to calm himself, thinking over potential situations.

First, the Winchesters were out to get his family - probably his mother, the way they’ve been singling her out. What would happen if they ran in, guns blazing in the middle of the night? Would he have time to take them out?

How would he do that, anyway. His secret wasn’t as important as their lives - if it came down to it, he would reveal himself if there was no other option. The shock value alone might buy him some time.

Was there other ways? He had ghost weaponry. It wasn’t very effective against humans, but a few of them could stun and immobilize people fairly effectively. He had Jazz to thank for that knowledge.

There was the Fenton Defense System, robotic arms and nets and lasers built into the house.  It was meant to protect against ghostly invaders, but it did have subroutines against normal burglars. That kind of thing would be extremely helpful.  

Five steps, turn, three steps, turn, a long step over a shirt on his floor, then back to five steps.

What about the police? Those guys were wanted by the FBI, right? If he presented proof - pictures should be enough - the Feds should take interest and get involved, whether or not the Winchesters were known as dead. They’d been known to fake their deaths before.

But what if this didn’t go down in his house? If they called his mom away to some empty park, how would he know?

What about his phone? Were they going through his old texts? His old calls? Would they go after his friends because of this? Shit, that would suck.

Danny took a breath, twisting to the side and attempting to duplicate. There was a disorienting moment of looking at the room from two sets of eyes before his body snapped back together. Anger flared up again, and he threw himself into the computer chair. He should let Tucker know that his phone had been compromised, and he shouldn’t message him anymore.

A few clicks later and he got back up to pace. Of course his mom would change the Wifi password.

A burst of cold snaked up through his chest, hissing out between bared teeth. This was the fourth freaking time in the last twenty-four hours. He was sick of it! There was too much stress already, he couldn’t deal with annoying GHOSTS!

Light crackled up in a hoop, and Danny dove through it, flying up for a moment before slamming straight down through the floor.

Layers of wood, metal, insulation and wiring passed before his eyes as he streaked down into the basement lab. A hulking figure was gliding toward the portal before Danny charged right into it’s side.

“Skulker!” He growled, fisting the black muscle shirt and letting his other hand glow threateningly. He could feel electric green blazing out of his irises.

“What do you think you’re doing.” He slammed him back into the wall for emphasis, a little surprised rockets hadn’t already been pulled out. Large metal hands raised up and his electric ball flared brighter.

“Peace, ghost child.”

Danny clenched his hand around the crackling energy, ready to slam it forward at a moment’s notice. This was a little odd, but perhaps they’d grown trickier. Still, the metal face looked rather annoyed and distracted, rather than determined and enraged like it normally did. He kept the blast powered, but stepped back and allowed Skulker to float alone.

Silver hands smoothed the ruffled fabric, brushing dust off the singular pauldron.

“There is a truce standing, for now.” Green eyes looked down at him, disdainful. “Though I suppose it’s hard for you to hear about such things, refusing to come to the Ghost Zone as you do.”

The hunter looked like he was being honest...Then again, there was always a possibility…

“How do I know this isn’t a trap?”

“Why else would we be steering clear of the human world for so many days? There is a danger upon us, bigger than any single ghost could handle.” Skulker folded his arms as Danny dispelled the energy curling around his fingers.

“You’re invited, as is every ghost, to attend the Council meeting tomorrow. We are to discuss the beings that destroyed the other halfa’s portal, and the danger they pose.”

Skulker moved toward the portal again, and Danny quickly swooped in front of him.

“What do you mean, beings? They weren’t ghosts?”

Emerald eyes narrowed at him.

“What do you know about this, Ghost Child.”

Danny scowled. He was getting sick of being referred to as a child. However, this was food for thought. The things in the lab earlier were not ghosts? That was...actually alarming. What else was out there?

“There were two...beings, I guess, in front of this portal two days ago.”

“What did they look like?” His tone of voice was a bit disconcerting. Worried?

“People? Sorta. They looked like people, but could teleport, carried swords and one of them seemed to have wings, sometimes.”  

Skulker hissed something angrily, under his breath. Large hands clamped down on Danny’s shoulders, bringing him closer to the metal face.

“Can you remember anything else about them? Did they say anything?” His eyes were wide behind white hair, startled.

“Um… They’re having a hard time destroying this portal? It’s harder to destabilize?” He took a breath when he was released, flying back a bit to prevent that from happening again.

“Thank you for your insight. We’ll post guards to make sure they don’t-”

“WHAT! Wait, no, what are you talking about? You can’t put ghosts in the lab! My parents would definitely find out, and go gun-crazy. Besides, there’s no way I can trust you to stick to the portal and not run off to terrorize the city!”

“We’ve made it this long, haven’t we?”

The sharp growl gave him pause.

“What...do you mean?”

“Some of us have been sneaking through to put up sigils that are meant to drive those beings away. Someone has been invalidating them almost as fast as we can put them up. We’re at a truce, Ghost Child. We of the Ghost Zone have more at stake than a territory dispute. The portal must be defended.”

Danny lifted his hand, wanting to protest. After a beat, he let it fall again. If Skulker was telling the truth, then he really didn’t have much to worry about from the Ghost Zone. It was the other things that were the danger at this point, having destroyed…

“Vlad.”

Skulker tilted his head in question. Danny couldn’t help but stare at the floor, the question feeling bitter and heavy in his mouth. He didn’t know if he even wanted to know the answer.

“Is he...Is Vlad still alive?”

The hunter’s voice was grave when he responded quietly.

“No. Nor has he become a full ghost to my knowledge.”

Ah…

“We will post guards, to ensure the beings do not return to finish what they started. Tehcnus already disabled many of the detection devices in the room, so they should be safe for a while. The meeting is tomorrow. Watch your back, Ghost Child.”

With that, Skulker flew into the swirling portal, the blast doors snapping closed behind him.

Danny exhaled slowly, feeling heavy.

He flew upward, back into his room and letting his ghost half phase away. So. Vlad really was gone. A sudden explosion, then nothing. It was so much like a reversal of that alternate timeline that he took a moment to assess his own feelings about humanity. Was that the road this was taking?

Thankfully, he still felt as human as he ever had with ectoplasm humming in his veins. Beyond the cold sadness curling up under his ribcage, there was no desperation or depression gnawing at his bones.

He fell onto the bed, afternoon sun leaving spots in his eyes as it peeked in through the window. Sensitive ears picked up soft footsteps, and he turned to see the door swing open under his mother’s palm.

“Hey there.”

She hovered in the doorway, looking tired.

“Hullo.”

“About the papers you brought down...We can talk about it in the morning, okay? I’m sorry for blowing up at you.”

Danny turned his head to look at her fully, nodding.

“Still mad at me?”

He didn’t have to try very hard to summon a small smile.

“Nah, not angry.” He had far too much on his plate to stay angry. He needed action, needed to make plans. He felt the need to take action thrumming under his bones, frustration fizzling at his constant on-the-spot reactions.

She nodded and stepped back out, closing the door behind her with a quiet ‘click.’

He pushed himself back up off the bed, resuming his tight pacing. He needed to get his thoughts under control.

Skulker wanted him in the Ghost Zone, for whatever meeting was going on. It was pretty significant, if there was an entire truce involved.

The Winchesters have his phone - possibly information linking him to ghosts, and thus making him a target. If he went to the Ghost Zone, they’d have a golden opportunity to snag her and...do whatever they did.

Danny clenched his fists, pausing in his quick steps. That was unacceptable. He could not allow his mother to fall victim like that. Granted, she had impressive martial arts and weapons ability, but they had taken out FBI agents, and armed guards.

If he could just duplicate, that would solve a lot of his problems, but this tight, coiling stress made it damn near impossible. He needed to be calm, to concentrate, and his mind just wasn't cooperating!

Danny thought back to the Ghost Catcher, but dismissed it. It was too unreliable, and both protectors needed to be able to use powers. One to fly, the other to defend.
A rumble caught his attention, and he bounced over to the window.

Shiny black approaching the curb.

They were here.

He easily found a shadowed spot at the top of the stairs, Invisible as he gazed down between the hand-rail’s spokes at the people below. His mother addressed them by name - Sam and Dean.

He noticed she had gotten rid of the packet he had thrown to the floor. Probably smart - didn’t want them suspecting anything.

Danny focused hard on their conversations, trying desperately not to get caught up in his own thoughts and miss a moment. He had his powers hovering just below the skin, ready at any moment to zip forward and slam up some shields.

They were...talking. Just chatting up a storm, about ghosts and weapons to use against them. Maddie seemed pretty comfortable around them. She showed her back, talking as she fetched soda and pretzels from the kitchen. Dean turned the cup down, but happily munched on the snacks. Sam seemed distracted.

They just talked about ghosts. Nothing out of the ordinary. Well, for his family, anyway. Power levels, abilities, types of ghosts. He noticed that a few powers weren’t mentioned, though he KNEW they knew about it. Possession being the main one. That was usually on the list right up there with ‘Invisibility’.

And then there was Maddie’s carefree way of speaking. It was almost like she didn’t consider ghosts a threat, which was definitely a change from how she normally lectured him about ghost safety and the importance of curfews.

Nearly an hour passed, and the most interesting event was when Sam strode off to the bathroom. He actually had to duck slightly to get through one of the doorways, like Dad did.

Still, there was no mention of his phone, or the texts therein.

The three exchange some papers, Maddie hands them each an ecto-deflector and they’re on their way. Danny breathed a sigh of relief, sagging back against the wall and phasing back into sight as the car’s engine faded away.

He startled when he turned to see that his mom was at the base of the stairs, looking up at him with something like resignation. Danny waved.

She sighed, beckoning him down the stairs.

Somehow Danny ended up on the couch, a pillow clutched to his chest once again. His mom had her wine, probably the same glass as before, it wasn’t even a quarter full.

She sat down on the couch across from him, swirling the crimson liquid and watching it flow. She looked about as reluctant to start this conversation as he felt annoyed she hadn’t started yet.

“I had...hoped...that you would leave it alone.” She waved her free hand abstractly. “This whole investigation thing on the boys. I see now, that’s not the case.”

Danny gripped the pillow, nodding. He wouldn’t back down. She sipped her wine, exhaling slowly.

“Those two are hunters. There’s more to this world than we’ve led you to believe.”

Chapter Text

Hot water felt wonderful, pounding against his shoulders. The strong smell of shampoo filled the shower, whatever ‘ocean breeze’ smelled like. He twisted his arms around to dig knuckles into the small of his back, arching into it. Danny turned, closing his eyes and let the water pepper his face, palms swiping over his cheeks and back into dark hair.

That… had certainly been enlightening. Pretty much the opposite of what he expected that evening to turn into.

He scrubbed at his scalp, foam dripping down his spine as he shoved his head forward under the spray.

Information dump hardcore.

His mother had explained, in confident terms, that there were other beings than ghosts in this world. Vampires, Werewolves, Shapeshifters and a plethora of others. Monsters that preyed on humans. Apparently the Winchesters were hunters, who traveled around killing monsters.

Danny shook his head, wrinkling his nose as hair clung to closed eyelids.

It sounded like some weird mystery-slash-horror novel series. Spooktacular or something. Who actually lived that kind of life nowadays? There were cameras, and internet. You’d think someone would spread the word.

Then again, whenever they left Amity Park, no one seemed to believe in ghosts, yet within the borders it was perfectly normal. Was there something in the water?

He growled, dunking his head back under the spray and scrubbed the soap out violently. It was six in the freaking morning. He was going to fly to school, do some last minute cramming, and plow through Exams. Skulker said there would be guards around the portal, but Danny didn’t know how far the truce extended, as far as avoiding harassing him during school.

Maybe he could swing by the Winchester’s place and try to swipe his phone back while they slept. No sane human woke up at this hour.

“If they already know about the paranormal, then… why lie?”

Maddie tilted her head at the question, so he elaborated.

“You left out possession, and kept talking like ghosts weren’t a big deal at all.”

“There are things we commonly call Demons. They can only manifest in this world by possessing someone. They make deals with humans, to grant wishes, but in return they take the human’s soul and twist it into another demon.”

Danny shifted on the couch. That certainly didn’t sound pleasant. His mom definitely looked like the topic sat poorly in her mouth.

“I’m sorry honey, I know this is a shock. I told Jazz when she turned 18, but I don’t know if she believed me. I was going to tell you after your birthday.”

“It’s alright, I just…”

He took a deep breath, noticing the couch was wiggling slightly. He stilled his bouncing leg. Without the jittery movement, he felt a bit off-balance.

“What do demons have to do with those two?”

Maddie looked him in the face for the first time since she started the confession, purple gaze flicking between his two eyes.

“I’m afraid of what they’d do, if they found out our ghosts could possess people.”

Danny scratched behind his ear, sliding down to rub the side of his neck. Her eyes were pretty intense.

“Hunters try to get rid of as many Demons as possible. Often this ends up with the human host dying as well.”

He stilled.

They stared at each other for a moment.

“So those two, the Winchesters… They really do kill people. They are murderers.”

Maddie gave a small nod. That didn’t make it alright! His parents didn’t kill people, and they managed to expel ghosts!

He leaned forward, gripping the edge of the couch cushions, raising his voice.

“Then why are you helping them! Why not call the police and-!”

Danny’s hand sliced through the air to gesture to the phone hanging on the wall. Her raised voice cut him off.

“Because they’re needed elsewhere! I just want them the hell out of our town!”

He stopped short, eyes wide at the sound of his mother swearing.

She took a deep breath, head still bowed. Danny shifted uneasily in his chair.

He slid off the couch, pulling a pillow off and hugging it to his chest as he leaned back against the furniture. His anger had lost momentum, falling flat in the face of… whatever this was.

“So you’re lying to them?”

His voice was hesitant, offering something like another chance to explain. Maddie ran a hand through her hair with a drawn-out sigh. Her voice was quiet when she began again, without a trace of the previous defensive anger.

“I want them to leave as quickly as possible, to think our ghosts are next to harmless, and under control. I used plenty of scientific jargon - I was surprised Sam could understand half of it. I thought he went to law school, not-” She stopped herself, shaking her head. This wasn’t the time for ranting, as much as her trains of thought liked to run away with her.

“If they think we have these ghosts under control - that there’s a little danger, but not enough to hang around, there’s a large possibility they’ll just leave without any casualties in their wake.”

Danny hugged the pillow tighter, resting his chin on it and curling his legs up to his chest.

“Seriously, why not call the police?”

Maddie shook her head again.

“They’ve got an insane amount of experience in breaking out of jails. They’ve even escaped the FBI. There’s rumors going around - pretty reputable sources - saying they have the help of a god.”

Blue eyes practically bugged out.

“There’s a GOD!?”

She couldn’t help but chuckle.

“A few, actually. Most hunters turn a blind eye when something with that much power rolls into town, unless they’re blatantly killing people.”

Killing. There’s that word again. It sobered the mood almost instantly. Danny was used to Ghosts who wanted world domination, wanted attention, wanted to fulfil their obsession in whatever way possible. Sometimes that led to people being hurt, lots of people sent to the hospital. One older man was in a coma for a month before he pulled out of it. Granted, he later died of a heart attack, but that couldn’t really be attributed to ghosts. Indirect damage was usually the most dangerous. Falling debris, depression spiraling out of control from happiness-sucking, the general mindfuckery of being possessed and losing memories, but no….death.  

Maddie observed that his mood had darkened, eyes focusing on something distant in the carpet.

“The Winchesters are scary good. They confront things that most hunters run screaming from. Entire covens of vampires, werewolves that hunt in packs, deep in the woods. They’re good at what they do, but that brand of violence isn’t needed here. The ghosts are different.”

Blue eyes flicked back up to her face, and she leaned forward, abruptly standing up. Maddie bent over a bit, offering her hand to her son.

“Here, I’ll explain over some leftovers. You missed dinner, didn’t you?”

She hauled him up, pulling him into a quick hug before heading toward the kitchen. This really was something she wished she could put off as long as possible. Her children shouldn’t have to know about this sort of thing. It was ugly, dangerous and quite frankly terrifying. She didn’t want her children to be sucked into that life. She would much rather they pursue their education and let others handle the monsters. Scientists, Astronauts, Psychologists - they were professions that let someone actually LIVE. You could have a job and a house and friends outside of the tiny, tight-knit community of broken people chasing murderous shadows. Maddie took a moment to collect herself, leaning against the counter.

“Normal ghosts  - well, the ones outside of Amity Park - they’re easier to deal with. Salt and burn whatever keeps them tied to earth, and they pass on. Both substances act as a purifying agent, and forcefully cleanse the trapped spirit.  Only the strongest ones can pull Ectoplasm from the Ghost Zone to power themselves up. Your father and I usually just call them spirits. There are different types of them, but….”

She pulled out spaghetti from the fridge, sliding the tupperware along the counter. Danny picked it up, doling some into a bowl and heading for the microwave. Soft growls from the sausages were cut off abruptly as the door shut.

“The ghosts here are an entirely different kind of monster. Your father and I think they’re made from scraps of consciousness given form and power, developed in raw ectoplasm. The stuff is ridiculously powerful, if you can find a way to harness it. Something that can focus that power into destructive beams could tear apart any human defense.” Danny glanced over to see his mom’s face gaining the focused set that she usually got when about to explain something technical.

“The biggest difference is mindset. Spirits have some powers, but they’re from focused emotions. Rage toward a type of person, despair from an event, fear of something. Ghosts, our ghosts, take much broader focuses. A ghost that is obsessed with hunting, or boxes. Some of them are too big to be considered just a ghost, more like a force of nature or an idea. The plant ghost, for instance, or the weather one. There’s rumors that there is a ghost that can control time.”

She glanced to the ceiling, realizing she was rambling again. Danny took a peek at the timer.

“The Ghosts here are pretty much impossible to kill. Your father and I discovered this pretty early. It’s easier to weaken and capture them, than it is to actually harm. We’ve been selling anti-ghost defense items to protect the public here in Amity Park, but otherwise just trying to contain them to this area.”

Danny was staring at her, leaning against the counter. She offered a small smile. He knew about selling defense items, but not the town perimeter. He had wondered though, why his enemies tended to stay within the town limits.

“It’s surprisingly easy. They seem to get weaker the further from the portal they get. There is a certain level of ambient Ectoplasm that is constantly leaking from it, completely harmless mind you, but it seeps through any type of matter.”

“Then why not shut down the portal?”

Maddie tapped a finger on the countertop.

“Well, there’s the whole free energy thing to consider. Many parts of the world could raise from third-world to utopias if they had unlimited energy at their disposal. Powering vehicles, water filtration, greenhouses for food and so on. Being able to tap into an unlimited supply of energy would solve a large portion of the world’s problems.”

She watched Danny retrieve the spaghetti from the microwave, stirring it around after placing it on the table.

“So, you’re endangering the town, for the sake of possibly saving the world from itself.”

He took a bite.

“Essentially, yes.”

She walked back into the living room, retrieving her wine glass and sitting down across from him.

“And your plan is to drive away the Winchesters before they do anything stupid, by pretending this town is completely harmless and not worth their attention.”

“Well, not completely harmless. We’ve made the news, after all. So, dangerous, but under control.”

“Correct.”

“Why’d you get their attention, anyway?”

She took a sip from her glass, taking a moment to brush red hair out of her face.

“They contacted me, actually. Apparently they had seen news reports and wanted to investigate. They heard your father and I were the local hunters and sent a heads-up that they were coming over.”

That was a lie, her mind whispered, but it didn’t matter.

“And you briefed them about the ghosts?”

“Yes. I had, foolishly, hoped that proof that I knew what was happening, and that I was handling it would prompt them to move along faster.”

Danny took another few bites, and they sat in silence. Maddie reflected on their family history. She and Jack had met in college, yes, and bonded over excited ideas on using science to hunt ghosts. Both their families had histories as Hunters. Jack’s side of the family was focused on ghosts and witches and took a Winchester-esque style of chasing and hunting. Her own side tended to settle down to keep watch over a hotspot. Her sister Alicia’s cabin in Alabama was very close to a significant location in the local lore. She was glad that Jack had agreed to settle down for their career. It had helped immensely in providing a stable environment for children. Two years of hunting on the road was quite enough for her.

“I didn’t want you or Jazz to get wrapped up in the whole hunter’s business.”

Maddie mumbled, mostly to herself. She refocused to find her son gesturing the fork at her.

“So vampires and gods are real, a bunch of people hunt those kinds of things, and the Winchesters ARE serial killers, but it’s okay somehow because the people they kill aren’t actually people anymore?”

His voice was flat and incredulous, like he was saying it aloud to try and prove how silly it was. She looked a bit uncomfortable.

“That’s why your father and I keep trying to tell everyone that ghosts are evil, not really human. The biggest mistake people make is trusting a werewolf or a vampire - They may look human, they may have been a friend in the past, but their minds are twisted by whatever curse spread to them, and they can’t help but feed on people.

Not only that, but many of them are contagious. Like murderers that can make anyone they target into a murderer themselves.”

Danny looked indignant and angry. Maddie just felt confusion. Why on earth would her son feel so strongly about that topic? Why was he speaking with such anger in his voice/

“And there aren’t exceptions? I don’t know, like the random vampire that decides it’d rather NOT kill people for food? You don’t think they deserve a chance?”

She knew where this was going, the spiral of thoughts that had plagued her before. She had years of experience pushing those thoughts back, and she wouldn’t change now. Danny was still ranting angrily, gesturing wildly with his fork.

“What if it turns on the vampire that changed them! They still have emotions, don’t they! You’d still kill them? They’re still alive!”

“I KNOW THAT, ALRIGHT!”

Maddie lifted her hands from where she slammed them down on the table, smoothing her fingertips across the metal. Some of her wine had sloshed, and she wished she had more of it earlier - half a glass was nowhere near enough to try and excuse her overreactions.

“I’m sorry, I just… I know that there must be exceptions, but I just…”

She reached for a paper towel, cleaning the small mess on the table with efficient motions. Danny wasn’t even pretending to eat anymore, his eyes sharp and boring into her.

“Please, try to understand. Knowing that they’re not human anymore - that they’re evil, something monstrous, you can protect your heart from the trauma that comes with killing someone. “

He was quick to retort.

“Like during wars, propaganda portrayed the other country as inhuman, so the soldiers wouldn’t feel bad about shooting them. If it’s war, then a bullet to the head isn’t murder.”

“Danny.”

He sulked openly.

“You know they’re still people. You can’t be that brainwashed.”

“Danny, stop. Please.”

He had bitten back another harsh comment, feeling slightly guilty at the hurt tone of her voice.

Part of him wondered where all this harsh anger was coming from. He’d felt it more often lately, the bitter feeling that accompanied his increasingly short temper. All of his emotions seemed to hover around, building and twisting together instead of occurring and passing. It was rather disconcerting.

Danny sighed, looking up through the steam into the bright light illuminating the bathroom.

He could really use a ghost fight right now. Some misplaced aggression sounded good to quell the storm churning just below the surface of his mind.

He hushed the part of his mind that sounded like jazz (risk-seeking behaviors!) and scooped up his bag. A transformation and quick hop out the window left him streaking toward the Winchester’s motel.  There was way too much going on, and he needed to pick off the sources of clutter that were kicking his brain up into a storm.

He wanted his phone back.

Heya Sam, you been in touch with Danny? -TF

Not since he called me a few days ago - SM

He's not been answering his phone - TF

If I see him in school, I'll tell you - SM

You alright? -TF

ttyl - SM

Seriously though... - TF

Sam? - TF

Chapter Text

There was a fine mist, high in the atmosphere. If anyone else cared to be awake at this time of the morning, they might have seen the local ghostly protector weaving across a pale sky. The skyline was barely bleeding into pink, far horizon still speckled with stars and a sliver of moon.

A map of the city was practically branded across his brain, years of chasing ghosts around making the street's layouts easily accessible to memory.

Danny found the motel without a problem, slipping into invisibility as easily as breathing. The blue pattern on the roof - a sigil, apparently - had been crossed through with black spray paint sometime overnight.

He sank through glass and layers of curtains, ignoring the faint prickle of electricity reaching out to him as his legs passed through the air conditioner.

The two brothers were asleep in their respective beds, breathing the deep pattern of restful slumber. Danny maintained the trickle of invisibility, turning his gaze to the room. An average motel room, with cream painted walls and oddly patterned comforters.

The duffel of weapons was zipped, shoved partway under the bed. Somehow it was no less ominous, now that he knew what the weapons were for. Nothing like creeping into the lion's den to make a guy feel comfortable. He could still feel fear coiling in his gut, accompanied closely by echoing anger.

He should do something about them. This was Amity Park, and they were murderers. Those two were worse than ghosts, and he should run them out of town before they killed again. There were other hunters, his parents were testament to that. These two already had a body count longer than any person should hold. How could they still have their humanity, with that much blood on their hands?

Danny drifted closer to the beds, hands opening into stiff claws, ready to summon a blast of energy. They didn't know how to handle the ghosts here, they wouldn't know how to defend themselves. It wouldn't be difficult. How many vampires had they killed? How many of those were little kids, stuck in the path of some brutal monster? Were they satisfied, to get rid of another monster, even if it meant decapitating a child? Danny bared his teeth in a snarl, all-too-easily imagining the older men pinning down a smaller body, holding the machete he had seen earlier…

He felt rage coil up, hot sparks dancing across his fingertips and leaking into little swirls that glowed green and lit up the room. It would be so easy.

Not just vampires, they killed normal humans, too. Possessed people gunned down to get at the demon within. If his parents did that kind of shit, half the town would be in the graveyard by now. He wouldn't even have to put effort into it! A bit of intangibility and he could rip out their heart. Soulless psychopaths, they deserved to-

One of them shifted, pulling a pillow closer to his head and sighing.

The moment broke.

Danny felt his fury draining away, replaced by a cold horror.

With a flick of his fingers, he dispelled the sparks and the eerie green cast fell away from the room. He took a slow breath, gliding purposefully away from the two of them. He wasn't…. That wasn't him. He was just here to find his phone.

That wasn't him.

Danny swallowed, trying to suppress the cold fear that snuck up his spine at the idea of having those two at his back, and turned around. The motel desk was cluttered, car keys gleaming from the parking lot lights still peeking through thick curtains. A sleek laptop laid charging, screen black. In the trash there were fast food wrappers and a few beer bottles.

There were a lot of books, and he wondered where the guys had found them. A moment later, he felt like groaning. There was a library here, obviously. Some of them even had the white bar code on the back cover. Specters, ghosts, haunting, everything was about ghosts. One of his parents' articles had been printed out, sections highlighted and notes scribbled in the margins. Busy little bees, these hunters. Danny tried reading one of the notes, but the light was far too dim and he could only see squiggles.

He did find a phone, but unless phones could spontaneously evolve like pokemon, he doubted it was his.

A quick scan of the bathroom area resulted similarly few results. On another note, who puts whiskey next to the toiletries? Did they gargle it or something? That's disgusting.

Danny even tried searching under the bed again, with no luck. He scanned the table again, in case he missed something. A few books were gingerly shifted around, awareness honed in on making as little sound as possible.

The pamphlets that his mother had passed to them made an appearance, balanced precariously on the edge of a stack. His heart leapt to his throat when the laminated paper began to slide toward the edge, but Danny restrained himself from leaping after it. They fell to the floor with a quiet flutter, and he released the breath held tightly in his chest. Leaping after it probably would have made more noise than that.

He briefly entertained the idea of holding the phone he HAD found as a hostage until they returned his, but that put a little too much confrontation on the table for his liking.

A flash of inspiration hit him, and he glided over to the two coats draped over chairs. The leather coat had some cash and what felt like a stub of chalk. Its inner pocket had a thick wad of folded paper that Danny stamped down his curiosity about. He was on a retrieval mission, not information gathering. He could spy on them later if need be. He replaced the items and looked onward.

Jackpot! He pulled his phone from the pocket of the tan coat, automatically trying to check his messages. There was quite a few, but he quickly mashed the button to put it back to sleep. A hovering phone probably wasn't the best thing for those guys to wake up to.

Danny rolled his neck, feeling accomplished as he surveyed the room one last time. Formless shadows spread across the walls, draping over slumbering bodies in a gentle sort of embrace. He turned toward the window, ready to head to school and begin his day when something gave him pause. He cocked his head to the side, feeling an odd sort of pressure nudging against his eardrums, accompanied by a faint whine as if his ears were ringing.

The pressure increased dramatically, and with a flurry like the flapping of bird's wings, a man was standing before him, barely three feet away.

Danny flinched back, rearing his head away from bright wings searing into his vision. Thousands of feathers from what seemed like hundreds of translucent wings stretching out through the walls and ceiling quickly coalesced into a single pair. They were painfully bright in the darkened room, somehow shining without illuminating anything around them. Light leached quickly out of the wings, coalescing into an aura that cloaked the figure, all of this within a few seconds.

Someone spoke, a deep voice that was overwhelmed by the high-pitched ringing that pierced the back of his head and shot down his spine. He raised his hands to his ears, curling up where he hovered.

He must have made a sound of pain, because the dark-haired figure turned suddenly and looked directly at him.

Danny choked back a gasp as green eyes met impossible blue. Something pitched inside him, like he was being thrown forward into the beginning of a free-fall.

Blue seemed to shatter inward, stars and galaxies sucking him in. He could barely think, his mind somehow perceiving the vast emptiness of space and the dense energy of a supernova slamming into him. Innumerable stars shone in a blanket around him, settling about his shoulders and sparkling gaily while black wings spread and blotted out the pinpricks of white light. This was something far bigger than himself, predatory. Danny felt terrified and overwhelmed, like he had looked up into the night sky and realized the sky was looking back. It didn't even matter that he was still invisible, he was found and there was nothing he could do to save himself. This was beyond human comprehension and it felt like his eyes and heart and breath were burning from it. Desperation clawed up his throat and squeezed unmercifully at his lungs.

One of the men shifted, cursed, and threw back the covers.

"C'mon man,I told you not to do that."

The winged man turned away, breaking their gaze.

Danny fled.

It wasn't until a few minutes later that Danny was able to quell the feeling that was kicking his brain so madly into the flight response. He found himself on the roof of the school, tucked back in the shadows of an air vent and shaking so hard he wouldn't be surprised if it could be mistaken for hypothermia.

He held gloved hands in front of his face, sucking in gulps of air and watching as the muscles trembled out of his control. He tucked them close to his chest, curling up and pressing back against the metal behind him like it would offer some semblance of comfort. Perhaps he just wanted to anchor himself. He didn't even know.

Danny pulled his phone out from a pocket, holding it tightly in an attempt to stop the trembling, and looked through his messages.

Quite a few from Tucker, one from Sam, and one from Jazz letting him know that she'd be in town in a few weeks. He punched out a quick 'I'm fine. Lost my phone' to Tucker, and forwarded it to Sam as well for good measure. He pulled his phone close, pressing his forehead against the glowing screen and tightly closing his eyes. He took a slow breath, silently pleased when he couldn't feel a tremble in it.

Well then.

That was unexpected and entirely unwelcome.

He hitched up his backpack straps, sinking down through the floor and finding a classroom without anyone inside. Rings of light swept over him, comforting in their familiarity. The abrupt tug of gravity was nice somehow, doing far more to settle his jumping heart than his phone had before.

He arrived in his classroom and took a seat. There was still time before his first exam, and Danny tried to leaf through his notes and textbooks. Predictably, he wasn't able to concentrate at all.

Were the winged guys after the Winchesters as well? Did he just throw them to the wolves? No, the shorter… What was his name? Dean, he had addressed the being with familiarity. Was it possible the two were allied, and the Winchesters were working with them to take down his portal? He didn't know what kind of questions his parents were being asked, so maybe they had been inquiring about how the portal worked.

Goodness knows how happy his parents were to explain the device.

He found himself doodling in his notes, the habitual caricatures of his ghostly enemies giving way to rough shapes of feathers and wings. He jumped when the bell rang, and his sense of time was quickly washed away as tests were passed out and his brain turned toward spitting out answers.

Lunch rolled around, and with it came a sandwich dropped in his lap. Danny had sat in the quiet corner next to the school's library, somewhere pleasantly chilly in the rising summer heat but still out of general traffic.

He heard the familiar clop of combat boots and felt Sam sit down beside him, like she had for the last four years that they had taken exams like this. The nostalgia practically kicked him in the gut, and he plucked the sandwich back up quickly. He dropped it into Sam's skirt, and tucked his legs up.

"Thanks, but no thanks."

He blinked when he found the bagged food placed on top of his head, and leaned forward to let it fall into his hands. He placed it to the side.

"Sam, I said-"

"I heard what you said."

He turned to watch her out of the corner of his eye.

"It's not a peace offering, but I have something to say, so you can eat and listen.."

He felt a scowl slipping onto his face, and started getting up. He felt a hand grab his shirt and yank him backward.

"Sit down." Sam snapped, shoving the sandwich back into his hands, along with a bottle of soda. "I get that you're still pissed at me, and I can kinda understand why, but that's no reason to cut things off with Tucker or refuse to tell us when important things are happening."

That gave him pause.

"...what do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb, Danny. It's all over the local news. Some guy was found dead in an alleyway, and it was obviously done by ghosts. Tucker said you knew about it before the news did. People are freaking out, and you've been even more withdrawn than normal. What's going on?"

Danny regarded the soda, twisting it open and shut again quickly to let the carbonation fizzle out without spraying everywhere. He remembered the body. The ravaged guy in a suit, with the remnants of wings etched into pavement behind him. A moment of clarity flashed through his brain, and he recalled that the winged beings in his basement had also been wearing suits. Was that what happened to them when they died? Their wings vaporized behind them?

"I lost my phone."

Sam made a noise of disbelief, and he leaned back.

"Seriously, I lost my phone. Just found it this morning. Things have been…. well, strange." He wasn't sure how to frame the idea that he had seen the body, and he didn't think it was human.

"What kind of strange?"

Danny glanced at her, tapping a thumb against the bottle. He didn't exactly want her involved. A thin scar traced the curve of her cheek, and he knew there were several others on her shoulder and back from falling debris. That was probably when things started going south between them, months ago when he realized just how disadvantaged his friends were, when fighting ghosts.

Sam apparently read his long silence as avoidance, and let it drop with a look of disapproval. Danny unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite out of it. He always did forget to pack a lunch on exam days. The cafeteria's food always seemed unappealing when eaten outside of the normal 'lunch time.' He supposed he should thank Sam for remembering every year.

It was strangely comforting to have her sitting beside him, even if they were arguing and there was a lingering hurt from their last face-to-face confrontation. She was still willing to ask about the crazy shit that spewed out of the portal, and deal with his problems if he wanted to share.

As long as they didn't run out into the fray, he wasn't too worried about his friends, though. That was something.

"What looks like a person, but has wings, a sword and emits a loud screeching noise like nails on a chalkboard?"

He took a swig of soda, and watched her set her salad down.

"Are we talking mythology, or just anything? Veelas come to mind."

"From Harry Potter?"

She hummed, and continued eating.

That was an idea. Were monsters from books real as well? What about myths and legends. Maybe he wasn't thinking big enough - What if Veelas were real? He hadn't seen any crazy hot blonde women walking around, though. There were gods, vampires, werewolves. Were there aliens? Bigfoot? Chupacabra? What other myths? Sphynx? Oh that was interesting. Roman and greek deities? Mermaids and sea serpents and dragons. He already had ghost dragons, but having real, living, fire-breathing dragons…. Danny raked his hand through his hair, looking sightlessly at the ceiling.

holy shit.

That was… that was incredible. He wondered if Skulker knew. Wings, though, and that horrible whine that came around when they teleported in.

"Not veelas. Try again."

Sam tucked some hair behind her ear.

"Harpies fit the bill."

Danny tilted his head.

"Are there dude Harpies?"

"Are these serious questions or just-for-funsies?"

He raised an eyebrow at the last word, debating whether or not to tell her the truth.

"If it's a ghost, you should know by now that their interpretations of mythology are wildly different from literature. Pandora's box being an example." Sam stabbed a pepper chunk. "The likelihood of my mental image being the same as the real thing is very slim."

Danny quickly demolished his sandwich, realizing there wasn't much time left before the next exam started. He had a lot to think about.

"Harpy was close enough, I think. Thanks for the food."

He walked a few steps, before turning around and adding "And the company." before jogging toward his classroom. He could hear Sam doing the same thing behind him, in the opposite direction.

His final exam was for U.S. Government, and he felt he did pretty alright with that one. There was no frantic feeling of not knowing the answers, so that was nice.

He didn't see Sam again that day, and the flight home was normal. As soon as he walked in the front door, his ghost sense puffed up through his lungs. The Ghost Council was tonight.

Whatever that meant.

Chapter Text

Before leaving, Danny threw his backpack on over the jumpsuit, packing along a thermos and his map just in case. One could never be too careful, and he didn't actually know where this council thing was supposed to be held. The silver sword was already tucked inside, and he left it wedged in the bottom. 

There was an odd sort of familiarity to the ghost zone nowadays. He couldn’t tell if it was actually less lovecraftian, or if he had just gotten so used to the common-sense defying physics of the place that they made sense again.

He glided swiftly past dark doorways and twisting shapes of condensed ectoplasm, flitting away from the ones that opened baleful red eyes or reached up at him with unstable arms. If you left anything alone in the Ghost Zone for long enough, it would probably gain sentience.

The ghostly sausage links still growling in his fridge were a testament to that experiment. It wasn’t so much the zone itself, so much as the thick fog of ambient ectoplasm. At least, that's what he had heard. 

Danny ducked under a drifting island, raising a hand to brush away the roots that wiggled down through the earth and tried to grasp at his hair. He wasn’t entirely sure which way this ‘Ghost Council’ was supposed to be in, but he was sure - ah!

Perfect.

He swooped forward, letting his lower half meld into a swirling tail as he joined the line of ghosts traveling. He shared eye contact with a burly ghost that looked like they were what resulted from a snake and a ferret having a child. It snorted at him, but continued to amble onward.

As they traveled deeper into parts unknown, Danny noticed that not every ghost would join their little procession.

Some of them opened their door as the group passed, turned their nose up and shut it again. Others raised defences, one memorable arch of thorny vines erupting around a black door and wrapping it shut.

He glided forward, outpacing most of the group and heading toward the torchlight flickering up ahead. Stone walls loomed up above him, ironwork twisting in strange and uncomfortable patterns around the top edge. It all rested on a floating landmass, one that stretched onward into the fog without end. Danny paused outside the entrance, following the lead of the ones who came before. The ghosts who passed through the entranceway seemed to become invisible the moment they crossed the threshhold, blinking out of sight.

He glided down and stood solidly on the ground before walking through, letting a faint tingle of some sort of barrier slide through his body. He glanced back, slightly startled to find nothing but a black stretch of wall behind him.

A murmur of voices washed over him.

The interesting thing about ghosts was their relative constant when it came to finding a frame of reference in 3-D space. Oftentimes they would drift perpendicular to whatever served as a floor. Very rarely would they orient themselves to stand on a wall or ceiling - usually only to put someone else off-balance.

With that in mind, it was a fairly ingenious idea that he saw spread out around him.

What seemed like a normal building from the outside, changed completely from the inside. Instead of seperate blocks of ceiling and floor, the walls all met in graceful curves to form a perfect sphere. Clusters of ghosts hovered together, talking in low voices on every curve of the circumference. He could look straight up and be looking 'down ' on the ghosts on the far end. He could see little green flashes as the portal moved around the sphere, depositing entering ghosts into empty spots. 

Danny wondered who had created this place. 

He was slightly off-put, having nearly forgotten exactly how many ghosts resided in the Zone. There were animal shapes, humanoid shapes, and many that looked pretty shapeless. Twists of heavy fog, insectoid figures made of ice and blades, A creature that he couldn’t so much see as hear/sense the edges of; He felt a certain measure of relief that his normal enemies tended to be of the solid humanoid type.  

A familiar coat caught his eye, and he perked up, gliding in that direction.

Ghost Writer was talking animatedly to an oddly shaped man, plumes of feathers snaking delicately outward from the shoulder and headdress. As ghosts drifted away in groups, he could see the rest of the man’s body was made of groups of patterned snakes weaving in and out of one another. He had a prominent nose, and heavily hooded eyes that narrowed when he realized someone was watching. The bronze hand that had been gesturing alongside Ghost Writer’s slide into the folds of headless snakes, leaving him a tall figure of a face and serpentine bodies.

Danny's anxiety was swiftly smoothed by Ghostwriter’s warm grin, the fangs seeming less threatening now. He wasn’t sure how the guy had gotten out of Walker’s prison, but all sorts of things were being weird these days. Maybe everyone had gotten a pardon?

Ha.

Yeah, right.

Rippling whispers flew out over the gathered ghosts, and Danny leaned back against his ‘wall’ to stare up at the few ghosts that were drawing away from the walls to float in the center. To his surprise, the snakelike man was one of them, his body undulating and grasping like some combination of an adder and an octopus.

Despite looking, Danny couldn’t seem to find Clockwork or Dora. He had expected to see them amongst what appeared to be ‘Leaders’. Oddly enough, he couldn’t even seen an Observer around. The giant eyeballs always liked to get their proverbial noses in other people’s business.

Ah well.

One of them started speaking in a booming voice.

“Ghosts and Spirits of this realm, I greet you once again!”

The halfa noticed that a few of the ghosts around him were giving him odd looks, and he started drifting toward GhostWriter. Maybe there was an explanation that he was missing?

“We gather now, to discuss what must be done to stop the Angels from their unjust advances!”

Angels?

The Writer raised an eyebrow at him, and Danny realized he had spoken aloud. He scratched the back of his head, eyes scanning the crowd as he continued to listen. Hundreds of wings, a strange unearthly body, and eyes that felt like the universe was going to swallow you. Yeah, Angels sounded more likely than Harpies.

It sat uncomfortably between his ribs, old questions of faith and morality being staunchly ignored. If learning about an actual physical afterlife didn’t convert him, neither would finding out about angels or gods. He blinked, realizing he had tuned out the speech for a moment.”

“-Militant and swift, claiming all reality for their own god. They once shared the earth with others, but it seems they are growing to be a jealous type!”

Concerned murmurs started to rise from the crowd, the sound almost drowning out the ghost’s last words. Danny could pick out snippets around him, feeling a bit out of the loop.

“-been closing portals”

“only did their job, we wouldn’t need natural portals anway”

“leeching at our home like parasites”

“letting demons run around willy-nilly”

Suddenly, dark wings snapped open, torches seeming to dim in their presence.

The snake man had transformed, enlarging dramatically and twisting in on himself to stay within the confines of the room with spread wings. The instinctual terror that he had felt in the blue eyes of that angel came rearing back, clawing at his heart and throat. The man took the form of a giant winged snake, slitted pupils blazing with yellow fire. 

When silence was assured, the ghost shrank back to his original form, gliding back beside the bearlike speaker and picking at one of his golden fingernails.

“I have been informed that one portal has resisted their influence.”

Danny didn’t like where this was going.

“A portal in the town of Amity Park, the lair of one Daniel Phanom”

Thousands of eyes pinned him in place, and he managed to raise one arm to wave slightly. He shot a glare at Ghost Writer, connecting the dots that Skulker had told the ghost, and he had passed it on. The man shrugged helplessly, turning back to the apparent leaders.

“While the dissolution of natural portals is not a harmless thing, artificial ones do a lot more damage - both to us, and to the Zone itself.”

From the explosive demonstrations his father had shown him, Danny could imagine so.

“A group has been formed, who are familiar with the area. They have been placing sigils against the presence of angels, and will move tonight to put a more permanent end to all this.”

The ghost nodded, as if that was all there was too it, and started gliding toward a wall.  

Danny’s attention was torn away from the remaining speeches with the Writer tapped his shoulder with a knuckle to get his attention.

“Pleasenorhymes”

A small smile snuck past concerned frowns, but quickly faded.

“I’ve been placing anti-angel wards for the last week, but none of them are sticking. Surface lines are disrupted too easily, and something out there is paying attention.”

“Alright?”

The Writer sighed, running a hand through his hair in what seemed like a nervous gesture.

“For a more permanent solution, I need your help. That's why I told Skulker to make sure you came”

He pulled a slim, leather-bound book from a pocket in his voluminous trench coat, opening it up to a bookmarked page and turning the book toward the halfa. Complicated swirls and symbols covered the page, circles within circles repeating and alternating. Danny privately thought that Skulker had done a pretty poor job in passing on the message. 

“Well, what do you need me for? I’m really not that great an artist, you know.”

Ghost Writer nodded, snapping the book shut and tucking it away again.

“It’s the most powerful sigil I could find. It banishes and protects, and etches itself into the very fabric of reality - not just a material surface.”

“That’s good, happy deus ex machina day?”

The ghost tugged on his goatee, still frowning.

“Normal ink won’t work. It has to be written in blood of the protected.”

…

Oh.

"Ghosts don't have blood, do they?"

"We have Ectoplasm." 

“I, uh… I’m guessing that’s where I come in?”

Another nod.

“That’s where you come in.

~~~~~~

All changes originate here. 

This day, a singular location. 

Remove the tangle

Destroy these foes

~~~~~~

Chapter Text

I got a tat. ( UAU) [photo attached] -TF

I need your advice. There's a giant shitstorm coming this way. -DF

Details? -TF

How do you feel about blood rituals? -DF

Generally poorly. -TF

The pink and blue sigils are apparently warding off angels. -DF

The ghosts want me to volunteer as a blood bank to make a permanent one. -DF

Those exist? ( ･ A ･ )? Will you? -TF

Both blood banks and angels exist, and yes I agreed. Can you do some research for me? -DF
Also, nice tat. -DF

IKR?! Surprised you said 'yes' Ttyl. Don't die. -TF

I'll call you Monday morning if I'm still alive after tonight. -DF

you should get a matching tat. Like, a jellyfish or lil horseshoe crab something. -TF

Maybe in an alternate timeline where I'm truly desperate to get a tattoo. -DF

Holding you to that. -TF

A pair of brothers looked over the chain of texts with no small amount of interest.
After finding a fully charged cell phone in a locked and already-searched room, bugging it was really the only sensible thing for two paranoid hunters to do.

Even If the contact information said it had belonged to Maddie's son, they were too thorough to have missed a solid black phone under a bed. This wasn't an accident – either the kid had somehow snuck into their locked hotel room, leaving un-damaged locks, or some monster had gotten past their barriers.

Maybe both.

The real question was: Was the phone a decoy for something bigger, or truly an accident left behind?

From the easy way these two were discussing sensitive information, maybe the latter.

Then again, it could be a trap. With even Heaven on edge about these ghost things, one could never be too careful.

Either way, they had a date now. Tonight, something was going down.

Throw...

Catch.

Throw…

catch.

Danny tossed the tennis ball back into the air, rolling the new information over in his head.

"How exactly is that going to work, using my blood?"

He glanced over at the older ghost, leaning curiously to follow his intent gaze as it wandered over the crowds.

"Truce or not, I'm not excited to let you stick me with a needle, you know."

"There's an element of ritual to this kind of magic. You'll need to donate a bit of blood to each of the compass point sigils, then one last time for the central sigil. I'll be overseeing its creation throughout tonight, and you can join me in the early morning to make your donations and finish the ritual."

He could see a few familiar faces picking their way through the crowd, anxiety immediately rising despite the truce.

"Magic, huh? How much is 'a bit', anyway?"

"A few drops for the outer points, and at least a tablespoon for the final."

The literary spectre was being oddly patient with him. Helpfully detailed, too. He shot a curious look at the back of Ghost Writer's head, more musing aloud than asking a question.

"...And how do I know someone won't decide taking a chunk out of my hide is more important than this "mission" of ours."

Skulker gave him an unamused look as he sidled up beside the writer, but it was Ember who gave him a sly smile.

"Nice airquotes! You can relax, stiff, I want this thing finished as much as you do. I've even got some new tricks I'm sure you're dying to see."

Danny shot her a squinty frown, still not at-ease with his old enemies surrounding him so casually.

"Somehow I'm not comforted."

Skulker rolled his eyes, checking something on his wrist display.

"Is anyone else meeting us here, Writer, or must we move to another location?"

Ghost Writer looked around, gliding up somewhat to get a better lookout point above the crowd.

"Yes, I'm waiting for- Ah, there she is, the lovely Princess Dora."

Skulker folded his arms, metal reflecting an odd gradient between his own green mohawk and Ember's cyan ponytail.

"Anything else to take care of, before we proceed?"

When no one answered, the robotic shell swept an arm toward an exit portal opening up near them.

"Then let's get a move on."

Danny had followed them back through his portal, and watched them flit away over the city with a bag of aerosol paint bouncing over Skulker's shoulder. He wasn't comforted by their assurances, and almost chased after them.

The strange… fear that had seemed to linger under everyone's bravado persuaded him to stick to home base. Ghost Writer had been strangely solemn when stressing the importance of protecting the last artificial portal.

Natural portals, he repeated at least twice, were easy to shut down, and ghosts couldn't survive without a source of ectoplasm to draw from. Danny didn't really want to argue with that tone of voice.

There were guards hovering just inside the portal, armed to the teeth as much as weird slithery porcupine-wolves could be. He passed a more familiar face in one of Walker's guards giving him the side-eye as they passed into his parent's lab.

Danny ushered them outside before texting Tucker, giving a brief update about the situation, then began preoccupying himself with the inane ball-catching game. He only dropped it and picked up a book when he heard his mom coming up the stairs to check on him.

After a beat, he wondered why he bothered. It's not like he was grounded from entertainment. She pushed open the door easily, and gave him a wane smile.

"Somehow, I thought you'd have snuck out by now."

Danny glanced to the window. He wanted to. He still could.

"I still-…." He licked his lips, mind racing to review what had landed him in this position. "I'm sorry about calling you- er….yeah. I…didn't mean it."

His mom padded across the carpet, settling down gingerly on the edge of his bed.

"Your father said you didn't take the news well, about-" She hesitated for a split second. "-Vlad."

….right.

Danny swallowed, slowly setting the book down on his lap. What could he say? Sorry mom, I might be overly emotional because my arch-enemy and only other person who is in my half-life situation is gone? Sorry I can't figure out whether to feel pissed or lonely? I feel like an idiot because I never got my clone's phone number? Oh, by the way, I might be bringing the wrath of heaven down on our heads by not letting them destroy your portal?

Like that would go over well.

He nodded shortly, not pulling away when she reached out to pet his hair.

"I know you're a teenager, almost graduated" Her smile shifted a bit warmer. "And I know you probably think showing emotion is 'uncool-" Danny huffed, rolling his eyes a little.

"-But I really do appreciate it, you trying to warn me about them." He froze a little, not expecting her to say that. "I know I'm feeling a little overprotective of my family these days, too." She dropped her hand, patting him on the shoulder before standing up.

"You're un-grounded again. I'll be leaving to pick up Jack and Jazz at the airport. Wanna come and get dinner with the family?"

Danny bit his lip, hesitating. He had to protect the portal, still. He didn't know when the others would be back.

His mom paused in the doorway, clearly waiting for his answer.

"Y- yeah, I'll be down in just a second."

She nodded, and Danny whipped out his phone as soon as she was out of eyeshot.

Jazz, I'm sending a doppelganger with mom to pick you up. Please be gentle. - DF

A deep breath and the strangest sensation of his mind splitting, and Danny watched a copy of himself trot downstairs and leave the house behind his mom.
It had been a long while since he had used one for anything outside a battle, and he hoped it wouldn't go poorly. Heavens knows his 'copies' weren't the toughest of things. Or smartest.

Danny sighed, glancing out the window to watch 'himself' climb into the back of the RV. The loud purr of an old engine pricked his attention, and he felt himself bristle at the black car pulling up in front of their house.

He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could see the two brothers get out of their car, showing his mom something. She folded her arms, looking skeptical, and waved her hand as if to shoo them. The shorter one, D-something, Looked angry.

Danny felt his muscles tighten, energy spiking at the perceived threat before the taller one guided his brother away, looking apologetic. He heard a robotic voice from downstairs, and nearly jumped out of his skin.

" Fenton Security System, Activated. Level 4, Engaged."

Danny relaxed slightly, peering outside again and seeing his mom tuck away her keychain. She actually was taking this seriously. It would be a bitch to get ghosts in and out of the house now, but somehow he still felt relieved.

He was almost ready to head back to his computer to await the ghost's return when a bit of movement caught his eye.

From the back of the black muscle car, a pair of clear blue eyes stared up at him. He only saw a pale flash of the color before the sucking tilt of a void opened up again, inviting him in with all the warm tenderness of a bear trap.

Heart leaping to his throat, Danny flicked invisible, backpedaling away from the window and summoning a sharp ball of energy into his fist. It hissed and spat for a long moment, contained between his fingers as Danny waited anxiously for a confrontation.

He listened to the sound of two cars driving away before daring to approach the glass again.

No blue eyes.

No hint of angels.

Danny let the energy dissipate, his heart still pounding.

Terrific.

Now he just had to play the waiting game.

I understand I am not Heaven's favored soldier, but I have news about the Others' plans.

From the Winchesters, yes.

I trust them.

Chapter Text

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly as he paced his room, too on-edge to settle down and properly wait for the sign he was supposed to be on the lookout for. Danny knew his mom was already long-gone from the city, his tenuous connection to the doppelganger stretched very close to its limit. Soon he’d have to cut the connection and just hope it didn’t do anything incredibly stupid.

It was only lucky coincidence that Danny was standing by the window again when pink sparks went up, and his ghost sense let him know someone was coming back to get him. He took a quick breath and leaped out the window, meeting Ember halfway across the street and eagerly following her back to the first sigil.

He noticed a spatter of pink standing out against her blue skin, and almost commented on it. She shushed him at the last moment, grabbing his arm and sinking them both invisible. Danny followed her gaze and saw two familiar figures standing over the fresh pink paint of an anti-angel sigil. He could hear the loud click-click of one of them shaking their own can of spray paint, black cap held loosely in long fingers.

Danny flew a bit quicker. It would be a relief to have this all over with.

Well, the Angels, at least. The Winchesters would have to wait for another day. He could only deal with so many threats on his life at once time.

By the time they reached their destination, ominous clouds were gathering overhead. Danny hoped it was from whatever freaky magic Ghost Writer was doing, but from the anxious way he eyed the weather, they weren’t so lucky. The smell of rain was already getting stronger, and Danny could feel gusts of wind trying to buffet him away into the sky.

The ghost floated down to stand between the black lines, offering a glass bowl and a small knife to Danny after he followed suit. Ember seemed more nervous than interested, and quickly flew back toward FentonWorks.

“It calls for blood.” The Writer reminded, and Danny obediently transformed to his warmer half, black hair quickly tangled by the rough winds around them.  

The cut was easier to make than he anticipated. Less painful. Countless battles had left him familiar with all manner of blunt and burning pains, but Ghost Writer had provided a very sharp knife. A dripping bit of blood, and his healing kicked in, sealing it right up.

“Skulker and Dora are making the next circles…” Ghost Writer frowned up at the clouds again, and Danny let white light wash over him, kicking back up into the sky.

“We should hurry?” the halfa suggested, feeling his own neck prickle at the darkening light.

The next two sigils went even quicker, now that Danny knew what to do.

Rain started pouring down, but something about the oily ink was repelling even the fiercely blown sheets of water. Danny, unfortunately, was not so lucky, and it wasn’t long before he felt soaked to the bone despite frequent flickers of intangibility.

Danny shuddered, his ghost sense going off in a thick smog, quickly dissipated by the wind. He could see the pinpricks of green in the distance, a veritable flood of ghosts spreading out around the city. Hopefully, they were back-up in the event of something going wrong.

Despite the doom lingering over them, this was going… surprisingly well.

He couldn’t hear for the wind in his ears, but he could feel the blanketing pressure increase quite suddenly, and ducked downward. A streak of silver whistled past his ghostly tail, wings snapping open to twist a suited body to face him again, sword held at the ready.

Of.  Fucking. Course.

Danny tried to quell the fear jumping in his gut, lighting up his hands in green. He was about ready to blast the everloving shit out of the angel in front of him when glimmers of light in the sky distracted him.

It looked like the stars were falling.

The ringing in his ears grew louder.

No, not stars. He could feel dread well up in his chest as hundreds of silvery auras crawled down between the clouds, reaching like jellyfish tentacles in preparation to teleport.

“ABOVE!” he shouted uselessly, twisting away from another slash just in time to witness the two armies meet.

Streaks of silver rained down like blazing comets, tearing into the ghosts. He could see flashes of green and red, the occasional blue slashing across deadly white.

Dora was quick to transform into her own kind of monster, and gouts of blue flame seared across the sky.

He flung a ring of green energy behind him, fully expecting the Angel to doge.

Danny stopped quite suddenly, twisting a shield into existence. A solid wall, which the angel just barely avoided. It circled around him, and Danny followed with his eyes, sucking in sharp breaths behind bared teeth.

He saw the wings silhouetted by lightning as the storm grew darker, the bright flash searing into his eyes.  

An angry shriek behind him distracted for a moment, his gaze torn away just in time to see Dora caged in glowing white light, flanked by three angels with arms outstretched. The pale dragon thrashed, white energy collapsing down on her, tearing through firey shield she threw up as a last line of defense. Blue energy shattered, and the light had nowhere else to go but in.

Danny gasped, jerking to the side to avoid another flash of silver trying to disembowel him.

He wanted to stop, to pause everything and stop this^.! Just, give him a moment to absorb this crazy nonsense! People couldn’t - Ghost couldn’t just -

He could feel the pressure shift of the angel pursuing him, and dove into the streets he knew so well. The immaterial wings could probably easily keep up with him in a contest of speed, their teleportation trick something he didn’t have the energy to emulate at the moment. Using the maze seemed more helpful than racing.

He flickered into invisibility, taking some sharp turns and flying through a building.

Upon exiting, he had to dodge another strike. He flinched away from the sweep of a blade, tail snapping as he flew away.

Apparently, invisibility didn’t do any good.

His mind raced as he headed toward the fourth sigil. Just that, then home, right?

Danny flew low to the ground, Zig-zagging and backtracking whenever the pursuing angel teleported too close. How would he finish the circle with this much confrontation? Did they even have a plan for this?

How did the Angels know to come down now!?

A crackle of heat raced up his spine and he instinctively dove to the side, biting back a startled yell when lightning struck where he had been a moment before. The taste of ozone was hot in his mouth as he glanced up through heavy rain, clouds roiling above them. He could feel thunder roll across the city from another lightning strike.

There was a whine of rockets to his left, and Technus's familiar cackle echoed down the street. He flung a half-dozen blasts toward the angel that had been pursing him, diving into the earth and continuing blindly toward the northmost sigil.

With darkness and earth pressing in on all sides – through him, even – he was thankful his ghost half didn’t need to breathe.

Danny poked his head up through the cement, cautiously assessing the area.

No angels.

For now.

He climbed up, trying to keep the light from his transformation as dim as possible as he sank into a crouch next to the oily symbols. A cut across the top of his forearm to add to the other three, a splash of blood mixing with black ink, and a few spoken words.

It wouldn’t give any sign of working until the last step, so all he could do was hope for the best.

Danny was vaguely aware of the exhaustion creeping up on him, outpaced for the moment by sheer adrenaline and spikes of fear. More noticeable was the ache between his shoulder blades,  and the building pressure in the air around him. It was so strong, like a vice clamping down around his skull.

Danny couldn’t help staring at the sky, a shiver crawling under his skin at the realization that…. They might lose.

He might….

Danny nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand clamped down on his shoulder, the panicked ectoblast shooting wide when he realized just in time that it was Ember, and not an enemy.

“Get to your house. Writer is there!”

He nodded, letting the energy sweep his hair white again, gravity loosening its hold. Danny carefully didn’t mention how rough she looked, normally sharp lines of eyeliner smudged around the edges, a dangerous looking gash wrapping from her left rib to her outer right thigh. She held her guitar protectively over the wound, shoulders tense in preparation to strum at any moment.

Danny found himself angling upward the next time a ghost nearby cried out in pain, not even stopping to wonder when he began feeling protective over them, instead of wary. Ember yanked him back down, keeping them low to the street as they hurtled with breakneck speed back toward FentonWorks.

The blue rockstar suddenly bit back a curse, and annoyingly familiar tones started bouncing back and forth over the city, eerie green light spreading over most major buildings. Right, the ghost alarm.

He barely had enough time to wonder what had taken so long, and if they’d keep out angels, before he was dodging another suited figure bearing down on them.  Another coming from his right, and Danny rushed upward into the pouring rain to dodge.

He launched up blasts toward the angels above him, white hair flat against his skull, hoping Ember had managed to slip free from the pincer attack. With a moment to breathe, he took stock of his enemies, noting carefully how ghosts using ecto-blasts seemed to be having the most luck.

Danny  managed to blast one angel right in the face as it neared him, his triumph morphing into horror as the neck snapped back at an unnatural angle, white-blue light pouring from the person’s eyes and mouth.

As an empty shell of a human body fell down from the sky, the radiant fog twisted a furled within itself before shooting at the stunned halfa.

He yelped, firing a blast and fighting back the instinctual terror that rose up in him when the pale aura slipped even closer to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a humanoid angel grasping Skulker’s head from behind, white light pulsing from the suit’s eyes ockets and underlying circuitry.

The fingers released, and the metal suit fell like a wet ragdoll to the ground.

He dove back toward the ground, shaking dripping hair out of his eyes.

Anger, frustration, fear, he let it all build in his chest, swirling together with a blaze of green as he took a deep breath.

And Screamed.

Visible waves of sound shuddered the very air around him, a cone of damage barreling over the hoard above him.

They writhed, white fog thrashing and retreating away, while the vesselled ones held their ears and screamed back, a high-pitch tone warbling and resonating with his own wail.

He could feel the power building, with no idea how to turn back the tide of sound as it reflected off the screams above him, descending again in a warped wave.  

In hindsight, that was a poor decision.

 “Move it, Airhead!”

He felt his feet slipi on the ground as he was shoved to the side, a swirl of teal flame rising up in a tight ponytail before him.

She snapped her pick down across tight strings, eyes wild and a crazed grin stretched across her painted cheeks.

The blast of electric guitar seemed to form a fiery bird. She yanked back on her guitar like it was a fishing rod, directing the huge wings skim along the side of the building blast.

The color of the waves changed, from his own trembling green into her blazing blue. The bird shrieked, leading the energy back toward where Ember stood. It spun around the rockstar, sucking the sound into a fiery vortex.

She shot a hand out, and the bird leaped forward, sailing through the air and crashing into a group of two angels, waves of sound and fire following in its wake to stretch onward after a few fleeing beings.

Danny sat stunned on the ground, awed at the destruction. He could feel it humming in the air, a static crackle just inches away from devouring everything.

The ringing in his ears prompted a quick dodge into the dark earth, swooping back up to deliver a sharp blast through many-layered wing that had tried to flank the two of them.

Crawling green lines spread outward from the wound he had created, wings sagging behind the startled angel before its body fell to the ground. Moments later, black-soot wings seared themselves into asphalt..

“AIM FOR THE WINGS” he shouted, hoping to be heard above the roaring wind and high pitched ringing that sounded like it was coming from all around them. “THE WINGS, NOT THEIR BODY!”

He met Ember’s gaze, noting how her entire head of hair seemed to be aflame, hairband nowhere to be seen as it wreathed her face in a blazing waterfall.

“Gnarly, isn’t it!” She cackled, scanning the area for more targets.

“I meant to show it to you next time you messed with me, but this is as good a time as any!”

A familiar roar started to fill the air, accompanying the screech of tires that he would know anywhere.

“No…”

The family RV careened down the street below, guns popping out from the siding and unleashing a flurry of blasts into the crowded sky above.

“Not now….”

They seemed to be aiming for the ghosts exclusively, and Danny couldn’t hold back the strangled cry of frustration.

Of all the things!?!

Was Jazz in there too?!

A staticky bristle in his hair and the sharp smell of ozone was his only warning before lightning snapped down from the heavens and his world was filled with white pain.

He didn’t know who was screaming.

It sounded like everything.

Chapter Text

Danny panted, unsteady even just slumped on his knees. The electricity still felt like it was rocketing around in his brain, overcharging him and sending echoes of fear and pain from a green flash of death he could still taste. He could feel his transformation flicker around his midsection, the floating ring even looking fuzzy and uncertain.
There were sparks on his tongue.

Danny heard footsteps and looked up, a flash of a black and white suit entering his vision before a hand wrapped around his throat, pulling him upright despite a weak flail.

He stared into the brown eyes of the Angel, translucent dark wings folded behind it, a few feathers blackened and burnt. Even the void behind its eyes seemed unsteadier than he remembered, the predatory aura losing its power when his mind was so scattered. Looks like they were both having one hell of a day.

The angel placed a hand over his forehead, like some bizarre blessing as the teenager managed to crack a tiny grin at his own dumb pun.

Danny gasped, feeling energy rocket down from his eyes, searing along his spine and whiting out his vision again. He keened, fingers of one hand digging into the Angel's arms and holding tightly. Was he pulling it closer or pulling away? He didn't know anymore.

It seemed like his entire world was shaking, one mind-pulsing vibration that was tearing his very atoms apart.

He reached out, barely thinking clearly enough to realize he had grabbed the hilt of a sword from a pocket inside the tidy coat. .

Curling his fingers around it, he slammed around and up, feeling flesh part around the metal, different textures and membranes snapping under its force.

The Angel's wings flared outward, exploding into light and flame, head tipped back in a scream that knocked him backward, shattering windows. Some of that fire surged at him, lighting his eyes up in pain, a choking wall of ozone slamming into his throat in one last desperate attempt to end his life.

Danny lay prone, the keening vibration still rattling his bones. He couldn't even push himself up, everything hurting in a way he had almost forgotten was possible.

He trembled, hearing the crack of lightning nearby, the screams of ghosts and sizzling of ecto-blasts.

The silver blade was still nestled in the angel's chest, gleaming dully from the shadows as blood welled up around the puncture point.
His brief transformation failed, light washing weakly over him. Black hair fell in front of his eyes, ribs absolutely screaming in agony.

Danny choked, curling up slightly and putting his fist up to his mouth.

A whisp of blue hissed coldly past his teeth.

Somewhere above him, a soft voice spoke.

"Not yet. We still need you."

Something curled around his waist, but he couldn't even open his eyes to see what it was.

He was hoisted into the air and blacked out.

"Wake up.

Ghost child, awaken. Ah! Good."

Danny groaned, wishing he hadn't followed the voice up out of the dark.

"You've only been out for a moment, it's not over yet."

Danny tilted his head, feeling heavy and aching, eyes hardly focusing on the purple and grey, black hair and green eyes. Oh… ghost writer.

He could smell blood, and paint.

Ghostwriter's coat was soaked in red dark enough to look black, some of it starting to dry in speckles on his face. Around the two of them paced a dark gray wolf, its muzzle distorted in a way that made Danny thing of a bird, long quills rattling over its shoulders.

The writer maneuvered Danny into a sitting position, letting him look at the massive circle painted on the floor of the Ops Center

Complicated squiggles.

"...been busy…" He managed to rasp, pulling his thoughts together like painful little tub of scrambled marbles.

Ghost Writer nodded. His teeth clicked together in annoyance, though his eyes slanted in apology.

"Cow blood won't work for this one. I needed it from a human - willing."

Danny's head lolled in a nod, and he almost tipped over. GW dragged him sideways, letting the boy slump against his side.

"C'mon, brat. This is your story. Wake up and finish it!"

"..cant.." He breathed, trying to lift his arm, the limb shaking violently. Everything hurt.

His arm fell.

Ghost Writer snarled, hearing footsteps. He had locked the damn doors, even barricaded them, but he didn't know who was on the other side.

The ghost grabbed Danny's hand, feeling the muscles twitching under the skin like they had minds of their own. Somewhere in the thousands of books he's read, knowledge stockpiled like a dragon hoarded treasure, a medical text chirped about the dangers of electrocution. He had seen the lightning strike.

He could feel the tremors as the kid tried to resist the manhandling, could feel the hitches in his lungs as every movement cause pain enough to steal his breath. The footsteps paused, and he could hear the rustle of clothes and a tell-tale whine of one of the Fenton's ecto-guns.

Shit.

"Open your eyes." He demanded.

Danny blinked them open, blue eyes hazy, but focused on him.

Ghost Writer yanked the boy's hand down, sharp knife quickly darting across the already-scarred forearm. Blood dripped onto its proper place, and sharp words were snapped out between serrated fangs.

Nothing happened for a long moment, and Danny vaguely wondered if the ritual had failed.

"You have to want it." The ghost hissed in his ear, desperate and forceful.

"You have to want to protect us – to protect yourself!"
He couldn't think, let alone have the willpower to-

A snarl behind him was cut off with a yelp, and green suddenly exploded over the immaculate lines. Ghost Writer's eyes narrowed to tight, panicked pinpricks as footsteps advanced. He heard the click-rattle of the porcu-wolf falling to the ground, and the bubble of destabilized ectoplasm under another high-pitched whine.

"Get away from my son!"

Ghostwriter shrieked a mixture of pain and anger as the blast caught him right in the chest, barely missing his core. He was quick to grab the halfa, phasing them both through the floor, intangible and out of reach.

Danny caught a glimpse of his mom reaching out for him, scared in a way he had never seen before.

Blood was trickling down his forearm, through the creases in his hands and into the floor as he phased through it.

But the ink….

The ink had fallen, tipped by their scramble and spilled all over the careful curves, leaving them unreadable.

...

They had failed.

The two of them fell quickly through the floors of his house, landing roughly in the lab at the bottom level. Danny gasped at the cold touch of tile on his skin, a lungful of the thick mist pouring from the portal giving him a sudden clarity. He wondered how ectoplasm could escape if the shield doors were closed.

"Phantom. "

The name felt strange when he had a beating heart.
Could doors even stop a portal?

Ghost Writer had stood up, gritting sharp teeth together as he stumbled toward the portal. Pale hands were clenched, spasming against the open wound as ectoplasm writhed around long fingers. He glanced at Danny, shoulders hunched, grey skin looking almost white in the florescent lights.

"There's no time to waste. We have to retreat."

Danny crawled to his feet, every muscle trembling. He could still hear a faint ringing, and wondered if he had a concussion.

No, angels. The angels made that sound. Were they coming?

"The other ghosts-"

"The portal is more important."

Danny hesitated for a moment, and that was all it took for the faint ringing to intensify.

The hairs on the back of his neck raised, transformation washing over him in a ripple as Ghost Writer paled further, yanking a quill out from some inner pocket in his jacket and starting to draw familiar loops and lines over yellow and black paint.

Green eyes could see silver twists of an otherworldly aura stretching through the ceiling, blindly seeking an Angel's teleportation point. He lit up his fists with crackling energy, stepping back into a crouch and readying an attack.

He still felt woozy and unsure on his feet, but the portal was a comforting presence at his back. There was something about it – some safety it promised between the folds of dimensions. Something that felt like home.

Just as the first angel snapped into the room, Danny skipped backward instead of charging forward. He slapped his hand on the barrier's genetic reader, doors opening with a hiss and lighting up the room in an eerie green cast. The color did nothing to disguise the dozens of other silver auras slipping through the walls and ceiling, heralding the approach of far too many heavenly beings to fight.

Ghost Writer had already stumbled into the portal before Danny dove through like a rocket, listening for the sound of the panels closing behind them. As soon as it shut, the circle would be complete - an angel ward that would seal the artificial portal away from any real damage.

The doors started to close, but not before that the piercing tone started warbling through pure ectoplasm.

He paused in the empty space just inside the Ghost Zone, purple doors hovering innocently around him. The hole in Ghost Writer's torso was beginning to reform, but his face was horrified, looking over Danny's shoulder.

The halfa turned back as well, cold dread twisting his guts into knots.

From within the swirling portal, wings were spreading outward.

A hundred white wings, layering atop and within one another, shot through with ugly veins of pulsing green. The tone that they emitted was fluctuating like a microphone's feedback loop, feathers trembling with it.

The wings folded up slowly, shaking and jerking erratically as green spread further and further within the core of each feather, overtaking the being.

Suddenly, they snapped open again, mist and light exploding outward. A shining silver sword was held aloft, then swung down with a decisive shriek.

The very air of the Ghost Zone split open, silver lightning crackling away from the wound in their reality. It spread in leaps and shudders, branching outward in an ever-growing tide. The shrieking of the Angel cut off in a choked wail, but the shining energy did not stop - if anything, growing stronger as Grace fueled Grace. Spears of white energy tore apart doors, disintegrating nearby floating islands and growing thicker and faster with each thing it devoured. The branching didn't stop, a web of furious energy expanding like a collapsing star.

Danny was already speeding away from the carnage, eyes burning from the light he had witnessed. He could feel the cold charge of it on his tail, electric fingers barely inches away no matter how much speed he put on.

The landscape of the ghost zone, landmarks and lairs that he had carefully documented over the years were torn apart as he raced past it all. Ghosts caught unawares were torn and devoured, the rest fleeing desperately for their afterlives.

Danny chanced a glance behind him, the amount of shock and fear coursing through his veins keeping him from truly understanding the carnage around him. That moment of distraction was enough for an arm of it to sweep around him, caging him on one side and grasping toward him with mindless hunger.

He darted away, setting his teeth against the sound of a familiar black castle being speared through and ripped apart. Gears fell from where they had ticked and spun, breaking and melting.

One of them still shone, just bright enough to see despite the white death bearing down at him from all angles.

Danny surged forward, closing his eyes against the unnatural white light eating up the space around him, surging up to swallow him whole.

White light consumed him.

Chapter Text

x.x.x.

EPILOGUE

Or; a smattering of deleted scenes and one actual epilogue

x.x.x.

Clockwork could sense when this timeline began dying.

It was a subtle thing – his mirrors turning a bit slower under his hand, the slight change in perspective when he tried to view certain future events. He could see the twists and turns his parade could make, even as a darkened path consumed it, framed in silver and blue.

The shadows of wings spread, opportunities narrowing.

He could only change so much in the human world.

He wasn't their god.

So he pulled his hood down over his eyes and stepped away from his mirrors.

Outside interference was never fun to watch.

Clockwork cut his connection with that timeline, leaving his castle to tick on as a countdown to its own destruction. His world was already dying, in most of its timelines.

He didn't need to cling to a dead one.

x.x.x.x.x

The two brothers normally would have avoided Amity Park like the plague.

A bit odd, perhaps, considering the 'most haunted town in America' title. However, they were not as oblivious to the 'ghosts' as they led the Fenton matriarch to believe. There weren't many (any) books about the creatures, but they had an IN with someone from another plane.

Namely, their own Angel.

That was enough to help out with their task – to cross out these anti-angel sigils and let the feathery asses try to get a foothold in the ecto-saturated town.

Closer to fey than spirits, the 'Others' originated from another dimension. They could only exist with a link to that dimension present – and the energy from that dimension fueled them. Cut off the link, and the being would perish. Close the portals, and ghosts could not exist on Earth.

Unfortunately, being creatures from another world's rules, meant the Angels were not equipped to deal with them. Sure, their weapons were effective, but the very presence of those beings – of that energy – would dampen their own awareness and powers.

The more of that energy leaked out, the less authority Angels had in that area. They were Enemies – a danger to the world God had created.
They had driven them away before. Ripped down the doors between their worlds, sealed the wounds in reality with the same grace that repulsed those abominations.

If the Fentons wanted to call those things ghosts, let them. Whatever terminology was used didn't stop the family from developing energy weapons capable of neutralizing them. They were dangerous, effective, and somehow kept those monsters from consuming everything.

Well, according to the Angels.

And the Winchesters would rather side with 'Dicks with Wings' than monsters even older than Leviathans.

x.x.x.x

The Ghost Zone had not always existed.

It had once been beautiful, a proper mix of land purple land and emerald sky, with its own rules and governing bodies.

At the beginning of Earth's domination by Angels and Demons, Someone had figured out the energy from this zone stifled the angel's extrasensory powers.

The angels Did Not like this, and started forcefully closing every stable portal between the two worlds.

The Angels were made of a caustic energy that did not react well with Ectoplasm. They destabilized each other, ecto and grace. Each time the angels closed a portal, the explosion of grace, while harmless to the human world, tore apart a radius around each portal on the Ecto side.

In the places where angels had sealed portals, and the grace had lashed out, the fog of ectoplasm and crumbled remnants of land swirled directionless. Doors to Lairs now drifted aimlessly after their anchoring point dissolved away.

The blows added up, until the world closest to Earth became an area of destruction, a dangerous place where only renegades lived, or those too stubborn to move to safer areas.

Walker set up his Rules in the areas most torn up by the Grace's punishment, trying to keep the lawlessness under control, becoming more brutal and unforgiving as the years rolled on.

Aragorn asked a favor from Time, and locked away his kingdom from the interference of others.

Some delighted in the chaos, setting up their territories in pursuit of bullying others, hunting their own kind like animals.

Past that storm of ruin, beyond where the destructive lightning had touched, there was still a small part of the world that thrived. A small area still home to natural ghosts and civilized rule, the kind of ghosts who would hold a council meeting, and host the location.

The Far Frozen was an island close to it – just wander a bit further, and a certain half-human would have found the rest of that world.

Unfortunately, he had not.

All he ever met were the criminals, the outcasts, the runaways.

He had only seen the decimated area between Earth and their world.

No-man's-land. A dead zone.

The Ghost Zone.

And when his portal was torn asunder, another wave of Grace-fueled lightning reached out to tear apart the world.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The first thing he could feel beyond the ringing of his ears, was the cold press of tile marking patterns into his cheek. Not to mention, the constant shivers of pain racketing through his nerves.
Did he make it?
Was he fast enough to escape?

What had happened?

He could hear the clicking of gears, and the faint hum from ghostly energy behind him. His breath hitched under the faint wisp of blue trying to breathe out of him, and after that; black.

Red eyes regarded him warily from the shadows, staff grasped in tight fingers.

Limp body or not, it was never good to find someone outside of time.

Especially with his parade already heading toward darkness.

x.x.x.x.x.x