Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Prompt:
I’ve seen a lot of fics going around about how Danny will get summoned as the Ghost King via cultist and dpxdc fics going around and I had an idea.

So Danny (ages 14-16 ish depending) gets summoned a lot, and in those summoning’s there is usually a sacrifice. Normally, if the sacrifices are kidnapped adults and the like Danny beats up the cultist and just lets the sacrifices go.

But what happens when the sacrifices are younger?

A literal child gets offered up, a soul contract binding them to Danny (probably as a slave or food or whatever, I just think like John Constantine’s contracts but without the con). Danny still beats up the cultist but now he has a kid with a soul contract that he can’t break without severe backlash happening to the kid and there already pretty hurt form the cultist.

Panicking and worried about the kid, Danny seals the contract but with some adjustments, so now for all intent and purposes he now has a kid.

Danny takes the kid back to the Far Frozen for Frostbite to heal, constantly sending calming emotions to his new kid while panic texting Sam and Tucker they had a kid now and spamming Jazz with questions on how to parent.

Many freak-outs and logistic family meetings later and they’ve worked out a relatively (more like half-way) decent plan for parenting. The kid is very happy with the new and loving parents and auntie and things calm down as much as things can with three liminal teenagers, a half-dead one, and a elementary schooler can between parenting, going to school, ghost king duties, and hiding all of this from Jack and Maddie.

Danny cries the first time the tot called him Dad. Sam and Tucker record this for blackmail. Danny gets even when Sam and Tucker breakout the waterworks when they get called Mom and Pops.

And then a few months later another summoning happens, this time with a 17 year old. They get adopted.

Five months after that, another summoning, this time with two 12 year old’s. They get adopted.

Thirteen months after that, another summoning. The kids 15. Adopted.

Two months after that, summoning and there’s three of them. All adopted.

By the time Danny, Sam, and Tucker are about to hit college age they have thirteen kids give or take. All of them call the Trio Dad, Mom, and Pops. Doesn’t matter if some of the kids are older. Team Phantom are the best parents most of them have ever had. Age is blatantly ignored in most situations. Dani is considered the oldest. The first adopted kid is considered the second oldest, etc.

Danny’s castle in the Infinite Realms has a room for all of this kids and portals going out into different dimensions depending on where the summoning happened. The Trio didn’t want to completely uproot any of their kids lives so they make sure all of the kids have the right records, access to schooling, etc.

Cue two of the kids (maybe three if you want John Constantine drunkenly auctioning off his at the time non-existent first born, accidents happen, the whole hodgepodge family has a understanding to punch Constantine on sight if they ever see him on their siblings/sons behalf) being from the DC universe.

Older of the two goes to Gotham U (I think studying communications, politics, philosophy etc to be able to help Danny with his Ghost Kind Duties) and the younger getting a scholarship to the fancy rich kid school Damian attends.

Danny’s kids are about as liminal as they can get between the adoption contract, all of the ectoplasm exposure, and the kids all living in the Infinite Realms the majority of the time. Damian and the younger get along like a house on fire be cause they have similar interest based on life. I think the older sibling somehow befriends Tim Drake, Tim possible develops a crush.

Batman is very paranoid about the two possibly metas around his kids

Chapter Text

(JLA has confront King Phantom about him stealing children)

Immediately, the small army subsided.

“My children,” spoke the King, firmly, “not my army. They were all…given to me. We use the term ‘Wished Away’.”

“Wished away how?” Wonder Woman questioned sharply.

The King raked a hand through his hair, explaining, “Most of them, their parents gave them up for something. Chat—”

The wannabe Catwoman straightened at his codename. He was one of the oldest there, nearly the same age as the King himself.

“His original father sold Chat’s soul—not his own, his son’s—to cure his wife of magic poisoning. I agreed. Harry, Neville, and Dawn—”

Two more boys and a nearly grown teen girl.

“The boys’ parents and her sister tried to sell their own souls for their protection but messed up and sold their kids’. I agreed. Everyone still gets visitation because their mistake was just that, a mistake. No bad intentions. Damian—”

Another boy. He took straightened at his name.

“His grandfather deemed him too weak at birth, so he sold Damian to me for a little more life,” the King bared his fangs, “I agreed but made him suffer for it.”

Chapter Text

A little more of that scene:

“Chat.”

“Oui, Papa?” Chat Noir answered promptly.

Phantom took a stylized cat mask from his bag, “Detransform, I think you’re giving everyone—especially Batman—anxiety.”

“Oui,” Chat took the mask, holding it to his face as his costume melted away before tying it on.

Everyone immediately relaxed when the Catwoman-esque appearance vanished.

“Chat Noir’s part of a superhero duo out in his dimension’s France,” Danny explained, “The Black Cat in English. Not connected to Catwoman. His partner’s Ladybug.”

Danny dug around in his bag more, asking his children, “Is anyone hungry? Thirsty? Harry, Neville, you have your wands, right? I have the spares—”

The children, some rolling their eyes fondly, assured him they were fine and had everything they needed.

The Danny stood back up, seeing some of the League smiling softly at his showing of paternal care.

“If the parents wanted their children back,” Flash began, “would you give them up?”

“We’re still working on trying to find loopholes for Dawn, Neville, and Harry, for example,” Danny agreed, “so we can give them back. Nothing so far. For Chat and a few more, no, never. I’d never give kids back to parents who knowingly sold them. We’re still looking for Damian’s bio-father and loopholes in his case.”

“Do you take care of them yourself?” that was Superman.

“Oh, no, I have a wife—girlfriend when this first started, Damian was our first Wished Away—and we have a platonic partner—our best friend. And our families; we all work together. Plus some nannies in the Zone.”

Danny frowned, “It—not many sell to the Ghost King, or Queen, but enough that…our family’s huge. We take everyone who gets sent our way.”

“They take really good care of us,” Harry piped up, “we’re happy. We even get sleepovers with our original families if we can.”

“The Potters, Longbottoms, and Summers really didn’t mean to Wish them Away,” Danny repeated, “so, they get visitation. The kids still belong to me but we…share? When Harry and Neville are at school, their bio-parents act as guardians and advocates for school related things. Dawn still attends high school in her home dimension. Chat’s in university in his. We very rarely completely uproot the kids if we can avoid it.”

Danny frowned, “Dami—Damian, and a couple of his brothers had to be removed for their safety so they live in either the Zone or my home dimension,” then he smiled, “but they go to school, have friends, everything. Anyone with…unusual talents, we see to.”

He laughed, “One of my current youngest, a boy named Sam, not to be confused with my wife, also Sam, who was Wished Away by his father for revenge has a talent for magic. So when he’s old enough, we’ve got him a place at Harry and Neville’s school. They teach magic there. Called Hogwarts.”

He gained nods of understanding.

“Actually, Zatanna Zatara?”

“Yes?” the mystic moved forward.

“You’re a witch, right? A real-deal broomstick flying witch?”

“Well, I don’t use a broomstick,” she replied dryly, “but yes, you can call me a witch. Real magic. Is there something you needed?”

Danny pulled a stack of paperwork from his bag, “We’d—me, Sam, Tucker—he’s our platonic third I mentioned—like to hire you. To be a magic teacher and general advisor. Look over the paperwork—we pay in gold, silver, or paper—and get back to us.”

Zatanna took the stack and began reading through it; it was a legal document. Some part teaching contract, some part NDA.

Then a portal opened; out popped a black-haired, blue-eyed young lady in a black dotted red bodysuit.

“Chat!” she called, moving towards the man, “what’s going on? Your mother—”

“These heroes here,” Chat took her hand, kissing her knuckles, “in this dimension, heard Papa steals children, my Lady—”

“What? How ridiculous!” the woman who must have been Ladybug blinked, shocked.

“Dad probably got that cleared up though,” a girl that looked exactly like Danny said, hopping through the portal, “Hi, I’m Danielle Phantom, Dad and Mom’s biological test tube baby daughter,” she came to float by her brothers Harry and Neville, “some froot-loop tried cloning Dad, used Mom’s DNA too.”

“Ah,” Flash nodded.

“Dad?” another voice called from the portal and a young boy, younger than anyone already in attendance, stood at the ‘ledge’ of the portal.

Danny immediately scooped him through and up, settling him on a hip with what could only be practice, “It’s okay, Dean. We’re all okay. Just a mistake.”

Dean blinked, “Does that mean a new brother? Sister?”

“Uh. Not this time. They just wanted to make sure you were all safe and happy with me,” Danny explained before pointing out, “hey, Dean; that’s Batman over there—”

To Batman he said, while Dean blinked in surprise, “You’re his favorite superhero, Batman. Could we maybe get an autograph?”

Batman blinked, “I’m his—”

“In my home dimension, and a lot of theirs,” Danny explained quickly, “you’re all make believe. Fictional.”

Batman nodded before kneeling and pulling a small business card sized page from his belt then a pen.

“To Dean,” he rumbled kindly, writing as he spoke, “pleasure to meet you. Batman.”

Danny let Dean down to meet Batman, under the watchful eyes of Danielle, Dawn, and Chat.

“Danny?” a woman’s voice came from the portal; a young woman, holding a boy younger than Dean, stood at the portal, purple eyes narrowed.

“Ah, Justice League,” Danny helped them through, “my wonderful wife, Sam, and our son, Sam too. Sams, Justice League.”

Chapter Text

“Not to be rude,” Dawn spoke up, “but can I go back now? I got school tomorrow—today? And everyone’s probably gearing up to kick some butt.”

“Oh, geeze,” Danny murmured, digging around in his bag to pull out an ancient and rather ethereal looking key.

He jammed the key into thin air, at around belly height, before miming pushing open two great doors.

What could only be an interdimensional portal shaped like double doors opened to a living room; there were indeed a group of people preparing for battle.

“Dawnie?” said a young woman who looked remarkably like the teen.

“Hi guys, just a misunderstanding,” Dawnie walked through the portal casually, “some people thought Uncle Danny was stealing kids and they ‘rescued’ us.”

The group groaned, setting down their weapons.

Another blonde, this time a man, snorted, “Bloke pays child maintenance fer ya, Bit. Gonna pay yer university fees. Dealt with Her Bitchiness. I don’t think he’s the bad guy.”

Danny shrugged at the surprised JLA, “She’s my responsibility now, isn’t she? There was a Hellgod after her, something about Dawn being a key or something stupid like that. That’s why Buffy tried selling her soul for help. She messed up so Dawn’s a Phantom now. We take care of our own.”

Danny abruptly disappeared.

“Ten coins we get a new sibling,” Chat said lazily, accent clear but understandable.

“Sucker bet,” Danielle replied before shouting into the portal, “Hey! Uncle Tuck! Dad got summoned again!”

A long-suffering groan emanated from the portal before, “Getting paperwork together now.”

“We keep files on all the kids,” Sam said, bouncing Sammy, “info on where, when and why they came from, birth certificates, vaccination records, anything like that.”

“Understandable,” Green Arrow said, nodding.

“It’s part of the deal Danny makes for kids,” she continued, “the…um…Wisher has to turn over at least copies of all the needed paperwork. But sometimes we start from scratch.”

She motioned to Damian, “We had to start from scratch with Damian, for example, he was only a couple days old and our first Wished Away; and Sam and Dean’s records went up in a house fire so that was a pain. But we got Chat’s and Dawn’s records and Harry’s and Neville’s equivalent records. They were born to a hidden society so not everything matches up, but it was a good start.”

Another young man came from the portal, carrying a stack of paperwork and file folders and a cup of pens.

Without a word he set it all on the council table before nodding at the assembled heroes, “Hi, I’m Tucker. Perpetual third-wheel.”

Sam rolled her eyes fondly, “Tucker.”

Tucker took a seat and began filling out paperwork.

Not five minutes later, Danny reappeared; he was holding a baby so newly born it was still covered in afterbirth.

Superman called for medical.

Chapter Text

Skipping ahead after the Baby’s check up:

“Slave born,” Danny said darkly as he fed his now youngest a bottle, “mother Wished to give him a better life and somehow that was enough to get us. Tried to get her to come with but she wouldn’t. Something about bombs? In slaves where she lives? He doesn’t have one yet.”

“Did she name him?” Sam asked grimly, filling out paperwork alongside Tucker.

“Anakin. Her name was Shmi Skywalker.”

Everyone froze.

“Dad…” Danielle began, “do you think—?”

“Why not?” Danny shrugged carefully, “We’ve already got Harry Potter. Medical here says he’s baseline human with something else in him. If he starts having accidental…Force use? We’ll know for sure. Either way, he’s a Phantom now. We’ll talk to Clockwork.”

All the Phantoms seemed to think this over before nodding in agreement.

It was fair enough.

“Who is this Clockwork?” Batman asked suspiciously, even as he entertained Dean.

“One of our advisors,” Sam answered simply, “knows almost everything about almost everything and everyone. He deals with Time and a little in alternate dimensions. He’ll know where Anakin comes from. Or at least have a good idea.”

Chapter Text

On Damian’s paternity:

“Your Majesty?”

“Hi, Batman, sorry to drop in,” Danny said, more than slightly frustrated but not at the hero, “but, big news. Clockwork finally told us who is Damian’s father.”

Danny pulled a paper and a vial of blood from his bag, handing over the vial with a “For your tests.”

Then he cleared his throat, “Damian Phantom. Sold by one Ra’s al-Ghul for a longer life.”

Batman could have been carved from granite, “al-Ghul.”

“Mother: Talia al-Ghul. Father: Undisclosed.”

“Talia…she told me…”

Danny softened, “She lied, Bruce. She lied and I’m so sorry. We’re looking for loopholes in his case, I told you that. We might be able to give him back to you—"

But Batman shook his head, cradling the vial, “No…I’ll…if you’re right…even if he is mine…he’s yours too. You raised him, Your Majesty. He calls you ‘Baba’, father, dad. But I’d—like shared—visitation. If he wants—Does he know?”

“He knows we’ve been looking and that Clockwork just told me,” Danny replied, “but he doesn’t know who.”

————————————–

Damian Meets His Biological Father:

Damian glared up at him, “You are my biological father?”

“Yes.”

“You did not—”

“I didn’t know,” Bruce interrupted quickly, firmly, yet gently, “Talia told me she miscarried—that you died before birth. I believed her. I wanted you, Damian, desperately. And I am absolutely furious Talia allowed her father to sell you to extend his own miserable life yet again.”

Damian blinked, saying in a small voice, “You—wanted me? I was weak at birth, Mister Wayne.”

“And I wouldn’t’ve cared, Damian,” Bruce asserted, “you’re my son. I don’t care if you’re weak or sick or disabled.”

Damian’s eyes were suspiciously shiny now, “You…wouldn’t care? I mean: nobody in the family cares but I was—I was sold for being inadequate. I was a sickly babe, sir.”

“We think he was a little premature,” Danny spoke up, “not enough to need NICU or anything but he was small and needed round the clock care, more than a healthy baby. We took him everywhere so we could take care of him; we carried him so much, slings and in our arms and everything, he was a little late crawling.”

“Ah. And I still don’t care,” Bruce repeated before saying, “and, thank you. Your Majesty. You and your wife, your family. You’ve done amazing with him. And how old were you? Teens, right? Taking care of a premature baby at your age back then.”

Danny pinked, rubbing the back of his neck and saying, “It’s no biggie, Mister Wayne. I took responsibility for him as soon as I agreed to the contract and I wasn’t going to fail him if I could help it. You should be thanking Sam and Tucker. They took responsibility when they didn’t have to. They didn’t agree to anything. Sam and Tucker were the same age and basically moved in with me to help.”

Bruce nodded thoughtfully, “And I will be thanking them.”

“I do not want to leave my family,” Damian voiced.

“I’m not taking you away from them,” Bruce assured, grimacing slightly, “even if I wanted to, and I don’t because they’re your family, you’re still under contract. His Majesty still owns your soul.”

“But,” Danny said, smiling softly, “if you want, Dami, we can do visits just like Harry, Neville, and Dawn do. We’re not gonna force anything.”

“I may not be your father in anything but the biological sense,” Bruce explained, also smiling, “but I hope, in time, that you can come to see me as an Uncle or beloved older cousin. That you can see my home as a second home which you can always return to. I will, however, be adding you to my Will and Testament, giving you a portion of my wealth just as I have all my other children.”

Damian thought for a few moments before smiling a small smile, “I think I’d like that, Mister Wayne; Father, I wish for visitation here.”

“Okay. We’ll just have to hammer out details,” Danny nodded, “an unofficial custody agreement.”

He looked to Bruce, “No souls involved; just an agreement on paper of when he can visit and why he cannot. Agreement on discipline and such. You understand.”

“Yes, I do,” Bruce nodded.

Chapter Text

Harry’s and Neville’s Second Year (CoS) Goes a Little Differently:

“Your Majesty,” the ghosts bowed.

“Yes, yes, hi, hello,” Danny greeted impatiently, tense because of the nature of the request, “sorry, but, monster around kids and a ghost has been affected.”

“Of course, your Majesty,” the Friar spoke for the grouping; even Peeves was there, more serious than anyone had ever seen him, “We—the ghosts—believe we know what it is. There’s a basilisk within the school—”

Seeing the incomprehension on his king’s face, the Friar explained just what sort of beast they were dealing with.

Danny went impressively pale, even while in ghost form, “Have you told—?”

“We are under a geas, My Lord,” spoke the Grey Lady, “we cannot speak the Founders’ secrets to the living unless directly and explicitly questioned.”

“And nobody’s asked you,” Danny swore, going whiter still, “is there any witnesses? To this…basilisk?”

“Another ghost, Your Majesty. Known as Moaning Myrtle, she was killed by the beast fifty years ago,” the Friar replied.

“Take me to her,” the king demanded.

He was escorted to a girl’s bathroom, where they met Harry and Neville.

“Uncle Danny! Thank Merlin!” Neville tugged Harry to them and made him hand over a diary.

It stunk of Death.

Without thinking, the King summoned his sword and destroyed it.

“Whoa.”

“Boys,” Danny said seriously, “go and find the Headmaster. Tell him I’m in the school and I think I know what the monster is. Have him put the school on lockdown.”

Then he entered the bathroom and spoke to Myrtle.

Within the hour a small army of ghosts had amassed over and around the school; they slaughtered the beast.

Chapter Text

Another scene, years after Anakin:

The scent of sickness hung heavily in the air and instinctively Danny knew that whoever called him wasn’t long for the world.

He was right; a woman, early thirties, lay in her deathbed; she begged him, sobbing and coughing blood, to take her son, protect him.

Her son wasn’t fully human and was hated for it.

Danny accepted his soul.

Young InuYasha, half dog demon, became a Phantom.

Chapter Text

In Paris, one random evening:

“Is that Adrien’s dad?” Ayla questioned in a whisper as she watched Chat Noir play tag with a ghost across the rooftops.

“No, his sister,” Marinette smiled, “she looks a lot like their dad.”

“Ladybug!” the Phantom called, “C’mon!”

Marinette transformed and leapt to the roof of her apartment and took off. Rena Rouge was right behind her, capturing everything to film.

They all danced across Paris by roof, tagging and sparring and just goofing around like kids again.

The Ladyblog had the clearest footage of the trio playing, the next day.

It was labelled: Caution: Heroes at Play

Paris teemed with joy that their heroes could feel safe enough to just play now and questions of just who the ghostly young woman was.

Chat let the cat out of the bag, so to speak.

He tweeted that Le Fantome was his sister by magic. He tweeted that she was born dead. He tweeted that they shared their Father by magic.

The internet exploded, demanding to know more about Le Fantome.

Then Le Fantome got a twitter handle and explained more: someone had tried to clone a powerful ghost by the name of Phantom, American English. She was the result. Chat Noir’s original father sold his soul to the original Phantom, who considered her his daughter. Phantom accepted and took Chat as his own.

Another explosion as people called for the name of Chat’s original father, called for him to be tried under the laws for antislavery and child abuse.

Then Phantom got a twitter and joined in: he confirmed that he technically owned Chat, by Laws older than most civilizations, but saw the young man as his eldest son. Le Fantome was his oldest period. Chat Noir was free to live his life as the Phantom did not want slaves or thralls or sacrifices to fuel dark powers he didn’t even use.

Chat Noir tweeted out a string of emojis that indicated that he loved his father as well.

Ladybug tweeted to confirm that, soul situation aside, Chat was his own cat. This gained her Chat’s undying love, proclaimed to the world wide web. He got a rolling eyes and kissy emojis in return.

The Ladyblog managed to get a family picture, though the ghosts didn’t quite show up right, to post with permission.

Phantom and Le Fantome gained a small following of fans in Paris and Le Fantome was given citizenship and a special passport, as she was obviously American, so that she could visit her brother whenever she wanted and have it be legal.

Chapter Text

The Phantoms and Ladybug give the Ladyblog and interview:

Phantom sighed, summoning his regalia, “I’m actually the Ghost King.”

Alya dropped into a curtesy, “Your Majesty! I am so, so sorry I didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Phantom said hurriedly, “you’re human, that means you’re not one of mine and hopefully you never will be.”

“What does that mean? Your Majesty?”

Phantom frowned, “Ghosts are something…almost unnatural. In the life cycle. You know: we eat the antelope but when we die, rot, and become grass they eat us?”

“Did you just misquote the Lion King?” Chat muttered.

“Anyways,” Phantom ignored him, “when people die, they’re supposed to just…move on, to whatever’s Next.”

“You don’t know?” Alya questioned.

“No,” Phantom shook his head, “I…haven’t moved on. You know? I’m…my job’s to get other ghosts to move on and make sure they don’t bother the living too much. My job’s to be…well, the boss. I am the Law in the Realms.”

“Which’s why you were able to take Chat’s soul.”

“Yes,” Phantom looked frustrated, “I don’t want souls—I deal with ghosts, I got souls coming out my ears. But Chat wasn’t my first—we use the term Wished Away. I…wasn’t going to leave a kid with someone who would Wish Away his own son. Even to save his wife’s life. So I agreed and took him, back home.”

Alya nodded darkly, “And Chat? What was that like?”

Chat Noir grinned, “Oh, it was wonderful. Papa may own my soul but he gives me much more freedom than my biological father ever did. I was only required to maintain good marks in my classes and inform him of my activities. I even have siblings!”

“Other Wished Away children,” Phantom explained with a tight smile, “Chat wasn’t my first, he wasn’t my last. Some were like him, Wished Away on purpose. Others were Wished Away accidently. Their caretakers tried to sell their own souls but messed up the ritual.”

“Why would—?”

“One was sold for a longer life,” Phantom sighed again, “by his grandfather. Chat was soul—without his consent—to save his mother. Two were sold for revenge. Three accidentally, trying to gain protection for them. One was born a slave, his mother Wished to give him a better life. One, his mother was dying and his father was already dead and he was hated for not being fully human.”

Alya was counting on her fingers, “so, that’s…ten kids, counting Le Fantome. All by yourself, your Majesty?“

“Oh no,” Phantom chuckled as Chat and Fantome laughed hysterically at the thought, “god no, I have a wife and we have a best friend we call our platonic third. My family’s still alive and so’s theirs. Everyone works together. And they aren’t all needing constant parental support, like Fantome and Chat are both mostly independent adults. The three accidental Wished Away still have their biological families helping, because they love their kids, it really was an accident—”

“Ten kids and…one grandchild,” Ladybug spoke up shyly, causing everyone to whip around to her.

“My Lady?” Chat choked. He was desperately hopeful and utterly terrified, looking at her like she had hung the sun and the moon and the stars.

She nodded, smiling tearfully, holding up her phone with the confirmation text from her doctor.

Chat let out a whoop, grinning like the proverbial cat, and dove in to kiss her.

“Oh my gosh,” Alya whispered, strangled and laughing, “Breaking News: Ladybug and Chat Noir are having a baby!”

There was a rather light thud.

“So,” Le Fantome drawled, “not to break the moment but…the king just fainted.”

Chapter Text

Marinette's (Ladybug) Parents meet Adrien's (Chat Noir):

“Maman, Papa,” Marinette began, “Adrien’s parents, their Majesties King Danny Phantom and Queen Sam Phantom of the Infinite Realms.”

“Just Danny and Sam to family,” Danny insisted as the Dupain-Chengs bowed, “we’re not Royalty here.”

“Seriously,” Sam agreed with a nod, “we try not to be Royalty in the human world.”

“You’re human?” Sabine questioned quietly.

Sam and Danny looked to each other then to Marinette and Adrien who nodded.

“This’s a secret,” Danny warned, landing and detransforming, explaining quietly, “I’m half human. Lab accident when I was a kid. We like to pretend to be normal in the human world.”

“I’m what we call Liminal,” Sam added, “too much exposure to ecto-energy to be completely ordinary. It’s part of why we insisted Marinette has a ghost midwife alongside her human OBGYN. Adrien’s Liminal too, less than some of the family but enough that…well, we don’t know what’ll happen, you know?”

Marinette’s parents nodded thoughtfully, with Tom asking Danny in interest, “Do you still eat? We’ve made lunch.”

“Oh, yeah, he does,” Sam laughed, “being half-ghost means he eats much more than a human. He could eat everything in your bakery and still be hungry.”

“We’re used to that,” Sabine laughed too, causing her daughter and her daughter’s partner to blush, “teenage superheroes will eat you out of house and home.”

“I ate before we came,” Danny assured, “so I’m pretty full. We’ve got money too so if I get too hungry I’ll just step out.”

“Nonsense, my boy,” Tom boomed and Sabine looked like he had killed her puppy, “we’ll feed you up right!”

“Oh, we can’t—”

“Papa,” Adrien said quietly, “I already opened a tab for you and helped prep massive orders just in case. You can eat here. Please.”

To his future in-laws he said, “Papa worries about eating more than humans can afford him to. He just doesn’t want to wreck your business if he eats too much for you to replace quickly enough to sell.”

“Oh,” they understood, softening with sympathy, “so the cookies and breads you helped bake—”

“Were just in case,” Adrien nodded, glad they understood his parents weren’t being rude or condescending, “so he has something to eat and you to sell after his visit.”

The Phantoms looked to each other again before shrugging helplessly.

“If you’re sure,” Sam hedged for her husband, “we’ll pay, of course—”

“If you feel like you need to,” Sabine allowed, “but you don’t have to. You’re family.”

“Just don’t let him cook,” Sam joked weakly, “or bake or…just keep him out of the kitchen entirely.”

“Don’t worry, Mama,” Adrien chirped, “I’ve got a Fenton Blaster on standby.”

“Oh?” Tom’s eyebrows went up.

“Enough ecto-energy can bring food to…well, not life exactly but it’ll fight back. Fentons are notorious in our hometown for cooking mishaps. But they live on a portal too. The Fenton Blaster’s a gun that can put food down again.”

“Oh dear. Adrien, dear, where is this gun?”

He slipped it from his pocket; it looked like a toy ray gun, a more advanced and thus smaller model than the ones his parents grew up using, “Won’t do anything to humans. Will burn Liminals and knock down ghosts.”

“I see. Well, keep it ready.”

“Of course, Sabine.”

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Paris Meets the New Ladybug (While Marinette's on Leave)

“Hello, Paris!” Chat Noir greeted the viewers, “As you all should know by now, Ladybug is expecting a kitten! As such, she’s out of the superhero life until she delivers and heals up! But never fear! She has chosen a capable substitute! Introducing! Tentōchū!”

Tentōchū was unveiled; she looked much like Ladybug, at a glance she would be mistaken for the usual heroine.

However, her spots were larger, almost blotches and there was a scabbard and sword slung across her back.

“And you, Chat?” Alya questioned softly, “Are you going on paternity leave?”

“Not yet,” he demurred, “My Lady wishes for Tentōchū to have an experienced partner for a while; however, I have indeed chosen my own stand-in. A sister of mine—La Clé, she goes by—will become Lady Noire as it gets closer in time to My Lady’s finest hours.”

“Not Le Fantome?”

“Unfortunately, we are not sure if the Black Cat magic would work for her, as she is a ghost,” Chat explained, “though she will be on standby to aid Paris as much as she is able and allowed. She is a foreigner to our great country after all. The President may not allow her to undertake heroics,” he paused, before adding, “La Clé is also foreign but she has the blessing of the Ghost King and Queen, My Lady, and myself. And will be here legally in her day life.”

“I see, and was she Wished Away?”

“One of the Accidentals, yes; the oldest of the three. She still lives with her biological family most days and calls Father ‘Uncle’ instead of ‘Father’.”

“Oh! That makes sense. He didn’t have to raise her much.”

“No, but the Palace is always open to her; she has a room and everything and he pays for her schooling; she receives a stipend for her living expenses as well.”

“Huh. Do you receive a stipend for living expenses, Chat?”

“Yes. Father is adamant that we have as much freedom as possible considering our situations, including the freedom to pursue our dreams regardless of finances…” Chat trailed off, before admitting, “Father wished to be an astronaut before he died; he cannot be for he is now not human and the Ghost King.”

“Poor dude. So, he wants his kids to have their dreams,” Alya murmured in understanding.

Chapter Text

Lady Noire gives an Interview:

“My sister’s kinda like a superhero, where we’re from,” Lady Noire said, balancing on a ledge easily, “she’s supposed to be the only one but the magic messed up. But several girls could be like her. One will get Chosen when she dies. Once I agreed to take over for Chat, she trained me hard. Like a Potential. The tail and ears are something we didn’t plan for.”

“How’re you finding the powers?” Alya asked with interest.

“I’m almost able to take my sister in hand-to-hand,” Noire spoke candidly, “which’s…weirdly upsetting. ‘Cause she’s superhero girl, you know? The little magic I already had has been added to while I’m Noire. Cat-like instincts and abilities, it’s crazy but cool. Can see why Chat doesn’t wanna be out right now, though.”

“And your weapon of choice; Chat uses a baton?”

Noire removed her baton from her boot and it expanded into a proper quarterstaff, “I’m supposed to be a little less lethal than my sister and her friends—they fight all the things that go bump in the night so they can be, need to be as deadly as possible or we all die horribly. I was trained on swords and daggers and battleaxes. The staff—Phantom made, well-enchanted. It can’t kill anyone, unless I run Cataclysm through it.”

She ran through a few motions with her staff; it was a blur of motion and movement, whirling and spinning through the air as she did acrobatics on the ledge where she stood.

She didn’t break a sweet as she bent and curled around her weapon while she moved.

Cat-like grace and agility.

“My sister, no, forget her, her boyfriend wouldn’t lemme do this if I couldn’t hold my own,” Noire finished grimly, landing on her feet and stepping down onto the roof, “really overprotective, ‘specially since we lost Mom and—well, somebody else. Uncle is just as bad. He’s a Protective Spirit. Like a guardian angel. His very core—like a ghost’s soul—drives him to Protect. He trained me too.”

Chapter Text

After Dawn becomes Lady Noire, Danny finds someone from her side of things in the Realms:

“Knock, knock, knock,” a portal opened and the king stuck his head through, “Can we come through, got someone I think you’d like to see.”

“Sure,” said Buffy, nodding.

The portal enlarged and Danny stepped through, pulling along a ghost.

“Tara!”

Tara’s smiled at them shakily; she wasn’t quite as solid as Danny, though she seemed to gain mass every second, but she was there.

“Yeah, so we finally, finally got through the backlog,” Danny explained, “you know—all the cases. And hers was found and flagged for my immediate, personal attention—because of Dawn. Her death was so sudden and violent that it—she became a ghost. Kinda got lost in the shuffle though. Sorry about that.”

“Baby,” Willow spoke, tears streaming down her face.

Tara had just become solid enough to embrace her former girlfriend, “Willow.”

“Tara, baby, I’m so—Giles sent me to a Coven—”

While the former lovers spoke, Danny was still talking to everyone else, “So. Here’s the deal: normally, it’s really hard for a ghost to exist long term outside of the Ghost Zone. My hometown is an exception. But, because of the Hellmouth here, Tara can survive here until her Business is Finished.”

Everyone nodded, relief showing on multiple faces.

“But,” he warned, “she could become Corrupted. Become a Vengeance Spirit or something like it. If that happens, there’s no coming back. She’ll have to be Destroyed. But, I honestly doubt she could ever get so bad. If you ever have an inkling that she could be going down that path, call me. If we can catch it early enough, there’re ways to heal her.”

“Where’s Dawn?” Tara asked, looking amongst her friends, her family.

“She’s off bein’ a superhero, in ‘nother dimension,” Spike replied, worry but pride in his tone, “one of her Wished Away brothers needed a sub. His girl’s ‘bout ta pop.”

“But I’ll get her back here for a visit,” Danny promised, “Danielle can sub in for her for a few hours. We’ll figure it out.”

“Of course, I’ll sub in,” Danielle joined them, dragging along Dawn.

“Oh my—Tara!” Dawn swooped in for a hug, “You became a—why couldn’t we find you?!”

“Oh, Dawnie,” she murmured, “I was…lost, drifting. Until Danny summoned me to the Palace.”

Dawn nodded, “Makes sense. The Infinite Realms aren’t called that for fun. You can stay, right? She can stay, right, Uncle Danny?”

“Until her Business is Finished,” he nodded, “then she Moves On. You know the Rules, Dawn.”

Chapter Text

If One Superman’s an Asshole, Find Another:

“Clark?”

Clark turned around, wondering how the Ghost King knew his name but pushing that aside at the sight of how angry and tired the other being was, “Is everything alright, Your Majesty?”

“Not really,” Danny shook his head, “look, I know I’m asking a big favor but—”

“Anything.”

“No. Don’t do that; hear me out. One of my advisors, he—sees and knows almost everything in hundreds of dimensions and timelines.”

“I’m following,” Clark nodded.

“Well, Clockwork—the advisor—noticed a dimension like this one; in that one, someone—Luthor, it was Lex Luthor—tried cloning that dimension’s Superman—”

“Oh, dear Rao,” Clark floated, his legs too wobbly to walk, to a chair and sat down heavily, “what?”

“—and succeeded. Well somewhat. They used Luthor’s human DNA to stabilize him. Like how Danielle was made.”

“Why are you telling me?” Clark asked plaintively, “Why not—”

“We did,” Danny’s face darkened, “that Superman wants nothing to do with the boy, wants him destroyed. Right now, Superboy, he doesn’t even have a real name, Clark, is hidden in Chat’s Paris.”

“I’ll take him,” Clark said instantly, “my gods. I’ll—I’ll call Bruce and I’ll get everything set up and I’ll take Superboy.”

Danny didn’t look convinced, “Are you sure? You can’t treat him, like, well, like a clone or a weapon. He’s just a kid. I mean, he’s sixteen in every way but years lived but he’s—extremely naïve and yet not. We were the ones that got him out of his tube; he’s been tubed since conception. Fed through tubes and taught via computer and—he’s already been rejected once, by a man with your face no less.”

“I’ll take him,” Clark repeated, “I’ll—I’ll ask Bruce for advice. He’ll help. If I need help, I’ll ask. I’ll make you the kid’s Godfather.”

Chapter Text

Clark Tells A Secret:

“This’s a lot to take in, Smallville,” Lois said, “but why now? Why tell me now?”

Clark grinned, he beamed, “Because, oh, it’s wonderful, terrible news. So, one of the League’s allies is the Ghost King—”

“The Ghost what?!”

“He’s friendly, don’t worry. Anyways, one of his advisors is another ghost in charge of time and dimensions. That ghost—Clockwork—found a dimension like this one—like ours.”

“Okay, so this other dimension…?” Lois nodded.

The light left Clark a little, “I—I’m the last of my race here, Lois. I was raised by humans. You’ve met my parents but I was…sent away from my planet as it imploded, like Moses. And Clockwork says that’s the basic story for every version of me. So I don’t—I don’t understand how—”

“Clark, honey, take a breath,” Lois instructed, “take a breath, calm down, and tell me what happened.”

He did as told before continuing, “That Lex cloned that Superman—one success, a—what’s called a half-clone. Basically, an aged-up test tube baby. The boy’s half human, half Luthor.”

“That isn’t the kid’s fault,” Lois argued, “so what’s—”

Clark smiled softly, explaining, “His matching Superman wants him destroyed—I don’t understand how or why. But I agreed to take him. Superboy. Codename Superboy, because he doesn’t have a human name yet. Or a Kryptonian one.”

“You—you have a kid now,” Lois realized, “you told me because you might need me to cover for you now. You have a son.”

“I also told you because I have a favor to ask,” Clark became shy then, “I’m trying to set him up for success, you know?”

“Where’s he now?” Lois questioned sharply.

“Oh, in another Paris,” came the easy answer, “with a team of magic superheroes, Superman’s almost always vulnerable to magic. We don’t exist there anyways. Equivalents, but not us us. The United HeroeZ, that’s their League, know the situation and promised to help the Parisian heroes if other-Superman shows up.”

“Okay, so he’s safe,” Lois nodded, satisfied, “and I bet you’ve already told Bruce about the kid.”

“Lois.”

“I’m a reporter, Kent,” she said teasingly but also seriously, “and I once dated him. I know who he moonlights as. I also know he knows I know.”

Clark rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling, “Of course you do, Miss Lane. Yes. I told him. Superboy already has a trust fund to take care of all his needs, a room in the Manor just in case, and he’ll be in any school he wants. Bruce’s one of his godfathers.”

“One of them?”

“The Ghost King, Danny, also has a half-clone, Danielle. He’s agreed to be Superboy’s other godfather. If anything happens to us all, he takes whoever survives into his dimension and sets them up with new lives. He’s agreed to take Bruce’s kids and Roy Harper’s daughter too. My parents. You, if you want. You can all be evacuated.”

“Clark.”

“Lois. You’re important to me.”

She let that hang and instead said, “There’s another clone?”

“Yes,” he let her change the subject, “Princess Danielle Phantom, Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms. Her genetic donors are the King, Danny, and his almost fully human wife, Queen Samantha Phantom. Apparently, enough ectoplasm exposure can cause mutations almost like a metagene activation. Danny’s personal Lex Luthor—another ghost named Plasmius—made Danielle by accident. He wanted a perfect clone. Not a girl-clone.”

Lois nodded, “But the King and Queen accepted her.”

“That they did. They were just kids, Lois, but they took her in as their daughter.”

“Did they offer to take Superboy?”

Clark paused, “Listen, Lois. They’re not bad people.”

“Okay…”

“But they have a lot of kids because people’ve sold their kids’ souls, some on purpose, some by accident. They treat every Wished Away kid like their own. Superboy’s actually with one of their oldest right now, he and his friends protect Paris.”

“Okay, so they offered something for Superboy’s soul?”

“Once they have someone’s soul, they legally own them,” Clark explained further, “by Laws older than most civilizations. Ancient Laws. They treat it like adoption. So, Danny said that if I couldn’t take Superboy, he’d try tricking the other Superman into selling the boy’s soul.”

Again Lois nodded, “So they’d have some legal claim on him, in their…kingdom?”

“Realms. They rule the places between dimensions, Lois, it also acts as Purgatory, basically. If someone becomes a ghost that’s ‘home’ until they Move On.”

Lois’s nodded again, absorbing and acclimating this new information into her worldview. Aliens and magic and now some form of an afterlife.

“You said you had a favor to ask?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah. I was wondering if you’d be his godmother? You’d only be one of them; Sam, the Queen, agreed to be his other godmother.”

“Yes.”

Chapter Text

Danny Asks a Favor:

“You’re a Predator, right Spike?” Danny asked hopefully, “Supposed to hunt down your prey and such, right?”

“I’m retired,” Spike replied.

Danny grimaced, “I know. I’m asking a favor. One of mine, he’s half dog demon—Inuyoukai.”

A scarred eyebrow rose, “Heard of those, never met one. You say he’s half? Guessin’ the other half’s human.”

“Yeah; and he has all these senses I don’t, nobody in the family does. I was hoping—”

“I’d help train the whelp up in usin’ his nose,” Spike finished.

“Yeah.”

“No killin’ humans?”

“Absolutely not; but you can use them to teach him to track.”

The vampire nodded thoughtfully, “Then you have yerself a favor, Your Majesty.”

———————————————-

Spike Trains His New Student:

“Here,” he gave the boy a rag absolutely doused in the perfume; it was a subtle scent, a lavender extract with some hints of rose if one searched hard enough, “Willow will be somewhere on campus wearing that scent. Your job today is ta find her by scent alone.”

InuYasha nodded, took a deep breath of the scent, hacked up a coughing fit worthy of any smoker, then took off with Spike at his heels.

It was a basic exercise, to get him used to using his nose; eventually he would track by personal scent alone but this was an easy start as there was no lavender near the school and it already stunk of teenagers.

Thankfully, Principal Woods knew about Sunnyhell’s nightlife and agreed to the Slayer’s request.

InuYasha tracked well for a pup, barely getting distracted though he had to re-sniff the rag several times and lost the trail once or twice.

Willow had been smart, they found.

She had hidden by the pool, letting the chlorine and general funk of teens at gym mask her scent somewhat.

“Found you!” InuYasha declared and Willow beamed at him, opening her arms for a congratulatory hug.

“Good job, whelp,” Spike praised his student, ruffling his hair and gently tweaking an ear, “you found Red. Saw some problems but nothing we can’t fix.”

Chapter Text

Where Do Demons Go For Dental Care? Fang and Keel!:

Danny stuck his head through the portal.

He was visibly stressed.

“Hey, Spike?” he called to the vampire, “You wouldn’t happen to know a dentist that does demons, would you?”

“I do, lemme guess: little one has a bad tooth?”

“Yup. Incisor, right side.”

The vampire nodded and replied, “Lemme make a call, see if we can’t get him in tonight.”

They managed to get an appointment and Danny and InuYasha arrived a couple hours before.

Spike led them through the sewers and to a trap door which led into an ordinary dental office.

The vampire marched up to the counter, “Phantom InuYasha here fer Doctor Fang an’ Nurse Keel.”

“New patient?” the almost human looking receptionist asked.

“Yes’m.”

She spun around, got up, and then returned with a stack of paper on a clipboard, “please fill out these forms as much as possible.”

The trio went to sit down, and Danny began filling out the forms; some were ordinary, some were decidedly not.

Dr. Fang was…something that looked human enough, save for his mouthful of needle teeth and sharp-sided serpentine tongue.

Nurse Keel was simply a witch who specialized in healing magick and didn’t mind working with demons or the Slayer.

“Slayer got her pretty teeth knocked out once,” Spike explained lowly to Danny, “they took her an’ had her right as rain in a few hours. Can’t tell anythin’ ever happened, can ya? Boy’s in good hands here, Your Majesty.”

An examination showed it was an infected tooth and it had to come out.

“Thankfully,” Dr. Fang said brightly, “it’s just a baby tooth. His adult one should come in soon enough. Lulu, can you numb him up?”

Nurse Keel nodded and chanted a short spell; once sure the boy was numb, Dr. Fang pulled the fang without fuss and immediately had gauze in place to staunch the blood.

“There we go, see?”

There was a black mass, almost like mold, near the root.

The tooth was quickly incinerated and, with a shot of antibiotics and a spell reversal, InuYasha was free to go.

“Told ya.”

——————————————-

Sammy’s Sorting:

“Fenton-Manson, Samuel!” McGonagall called and Sam marched up to the hat and stool.

The hat swallowed his head.

“Hmm,” said the Hat, thankfully only audible to Sam, “where to put you, young one?”

‘Not Slytherin,’ thought Sam fiercely.

“Not Slytherin, you say? You could fit well there.”

‘I’m an American muggleborn with ties to Potter, Longbottom, and Black.’

“Point taken; point taken indeed. Perhaps…yes…Ravenclaw!”

The Hat roared the House name and the blue-tied students erupted into applause.

Sam grinned and stumbled to take his place at the table.

Chapter Text

Dean Fenton Doesn't Do Salt and Burns:

“Don’t like just destroyin’ the ghost,” Fenton explained, having settled the stuffed puppy on the grave, “’specially kids, man. They don’t usually mean harm.”

Bobby nodded thoughtfully though then he shook his head, “Kid, yer crazy. Most Hunters just salt and burn.”

“For me, that’s the last resort,” Fenton said, looking at the grave sadly, “once you do that, they don’t get to move on.”

------------------------------------------------------

Dean and Bobby Talk Some More:

“I am not a Winchester!” Dean hissed, eyes seeming to glow, “John Winchester sold me! My brother! To the frickin’ Ghost King!”

Bobby froze, “What.”

“He sold us, me an’ Sammy. Thankfully Dad, the King, took us as his own sons—” Dean seemed to settle somewhat, “I remember, Bobby. I was old enough to remember. Sammy isn’t. But Dad an’ Mom told us the truth. They always tell us the truth about our pasts.”

“You make it sound like there’re more of ya,” Bobby noted and Dean grinned, suddenly looking boyish.

“I have a lot of siblings—all sold, though we use ‘Wished Away’, for something. Only three of us were sold accidentally. Their folks tried selling their own souls to keep the kids safe—”

“Ended up selling the kids’,” Bobby nodded, “and did the—did yer dad keep ‘em safe?”

“Yeah.”

“Ghost King huh,” he rubbed his beard, “heard whispers of one but thought it was a myth. So that’s why you just don’t salt an’ burn.”

“I grew up ‘round ghosts, Bobby,” Dean said softly, “I’m…I could be an expert on Ghostlore. Most ghosts want something. Most ghosts just…they don’t mean harm. Not sayin’ they’re harmless but…” he sighed, “part of Dad’s duties is to get ghosts to move on…so, I—”

“You learned to do that,” the older Hunter nodded again.

“If they go bad, if they’re evil, yeah, I’ll destroy ‘em,” Dean assured, “but that’s never the first step. Not for me.”

“I’ll start callin’ ya in for salt and burns then,” Bobby said.

“I’ll do what I can,” Dean agreed.

Chapter Text

Danny Meets His First Grandchild:

Everyone quieted as Danny took the baby into his arms; his first grandchild, his first grandson.

In the human world, Louis Fenton-Cheng.

In the Realms, Louis Phantom.

“Hello, Louis,” Danny hummed, feeling his core start to vibrate in acknowledgment of someone new to Protect.

The audible purr-like sound settled his grandson; Louis was already used to purring men.

Adrien’s siblings crowded around their Father/Uncle and nephew, all almost reverent; each could already feel the Magic thrumming through the young child. Unshaped, primal for now, but being the Child of both Creation and Destruction left a mark.

“If he remains so magical,” Marinette voiced to her father-in-law, who focused in on her like a laser, “could we perhaps get him a spot at Hogwarts? In Harry’s and Neville’s world?”

“There’s always Beauxbatons,” Harry spoke up, pushing his glasses back into place, “it’s the French Hogwarts. We have some connections I can try pulling. I think Headmistress Maxime will agree if we explain.”

“But that’s years away,” Neville added, grinning, “though I’ll tell you this; I’ll pay his tuition.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Harry Pulls Some Connections:

“So that’s the situation.”

Harry sat in the Headmistress’ office, trying not to feel too small and like a child as the half-giant mulled things over.

Olympe Maxime had hear many a strange tale during her life but this was perhaps the strangest of all; and the worst thing? She believed it.

She stood up, “As far as I understand it, there is a magical child of great potential within the borders of France—I care not if it is another France, the fact remains that had he been born in mine he would have already been down for a spot at this school.”

“Yes’m.”

“His parents, also of great magic though untrained in the wand, wish to gain him instruction here. Or Hogwarts. Whichever will take him.”

“Yes’m. We’re also looking into one of the Canadian schools—one that speaks French as a main language. Louis—my nephew—is scary powerful. His parents’…er…partners say any children born to the pair will be just as powerful.”

Maxime nodded. It made sense and she was thankful that the young Potter had come to her school first. He could have had these children, for if she had her way Beauxbatons would serve each born to that powerful pair, in Hogwarts without even a whisper her way.

“And if I agree, who will I contact for them?” she asked, “Parents in another world…”

“The Delacours, Ma’am, have agreed to…act as advocates for Louis and any siblings attending Beauxbatons,” he pulled a letter from his pocket.

It had the Delacour seal.

Maxime nodded again, taking the letter and opening it to read.

It was as he had said, the Delacours had agreed to act as guardians during the school year, with the Potters and Longbottoms of the United Kingdom as secondary contacts.

They in turn had contact with the Fenton-Chengs through the so-called Ghost Zone.

The letter went step-by-step in the tentative plan for the Fenton-Cheng children, including holiday lodgings and who would be paying tuition and for materials.

“Ollivander Wands,” she hummed.

“My dad insists,” Harry gave a lopsided grin, “no offense but we trust his wands—Potters and Longbottoms have been his customers since the families began.”

“I see. Everything else will be French made, I hope?”

“Yes’m. As much as possible.”

“Then, provisionally, I agree,” she went around her desk and pulled out a stack of parchment, only to hand it to Harry, “this must be filled out by the child’s parents. You may return it to me within the year and I shall personally save him a spot for instruction.”

Harry took the stack, nodding, “Yes, I understand. Thank you, Headmistress Maxime.”

Chapter Text

Connor Meets Clark:

Clark’s palms were sweating.

That had never happened before; but, dear Rao, he couldn’t afford to mess this up.

Already, Superboy was watching him with a guarded expression, no doubt waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Clark smiled, “Welcome home, Superboy—”

“My name’s Connor,” the boy interrupted firmly, “not Superboy.”

“I’m sorry, Connor,” Clark apologized sincerely, “I was told you didn’t have a name yet.”

Connor relaxed a little, a tiny little bit, “The Princess gave me my name. It means wolf-lover or wolf-friend.”

“Really,” and Clark was honestly interested.

“Yeah. I made friends with a wolf ghost,” Connor explained shyly, “so she offered the name. I chose it. It’s mine and I chose to use it.”

Connor smiled.

And suddenly, Clark knew this was going to work out.

Chapter Text

Anakin Gets a Teacher:

“Knight Kenobi,” she offered a hand, “Hi, I’m Anakin’s mother, Sam.”

Kenobi bowed instead, “Your majesty.”

She laughed lightly, “No, no. Just Sam. Just his mom, to you. Seriously.”

“If you think that’s alright,” Kenobi nodded, adding, “and please, call me Obi-Wan…now, to Anakin?”

She nodded, “He’s…terrifyingly powerful. He doesn’t even mean to scare us. So far, we’ve had him training under a telepath, to help his shielding, an empath, for the same reason, and a witch, so he can harness the Force somewhat.”

Obi-wan stroked his beard thoughtfully, “I see how that could work for a time; yes. I can also see why you contacted the Jedi for his further training despite not giving him to the Temple.”

“We honestly didn’t even know if he had the Force, when we got him,” Sam explained quietly, “we knew…you’ve been told your dimension is fictional to us and a lot of ours, right?”

“Yes, of course. The King made that clear to the Council.”

“We weren’t sure he was that Anakin Skywalker,” Sam continued, “if we had known for sure, we’d’ve contacted you guys, at the Temple, earlier. As it is, in the movies, he was a latecomer anyways, You and Master Jinn—” her eyes widened, “Oh, that’s right. Anakin doesn’t like the word ‘Master’. He was slave-born and he knows it—we don’t lie to the kids—so words like that—”

“Understood,” Obi-wan agreed, “he can call me by name, or ‘Mister’. I will not tell him to call me ‘Master’ if it upsets him so. He is not, technically, my Padawan in any case. What were you saying about my Master?”

“You and Master Jinn would have found him during a crisis that sent you to his planet—Tatooine—and Jinn would have won him from his Master but not his mother.”

“And, what happened to his mother here?”

Sam shook her head, “When she Wished him Away, Danny tried to get her to come with, we’d’ve taken her in too. But she was too afraid. There was a bomb in her?”

Obi-wan’s face darkened, “Of course. Slavers often implant transmitters. If the slave leaves a certain parameter, they will explode. She would have seen such occurrences. You couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t explode and hurt her son.”

Sam’s face was thunderous, “What.”

“Oh yes. Not uncommon, I’m afraid. Of course, it is against Republic Law, but on the outer planets—what good are Laws without enforcement?”

Sam took a deep breath, “Okay. Okay, I’m just…gonna bring that up to Anakin’s therapist. Figure out how to…I hope he never asks but…”

Better to be prepared and all that.

Chapter Text

Bobby Meets Dean's Older Brother (or: Someone Was Very Naughty):

“The spell’s unusable, Dean,” Bobby shook his head, “we’d need to channel Creation an’ Destruction. That sorta power would kill someone!

Dean perked up, “Or we find people who can.”

He whipped out his cellphone and texted someone.

Within minutes a portal opened and out stepped two people a few years older than Dean but a few years younger than Bobby.

Dean stowed his phone and clapped the newcomers on the shoulders, “Bobby Singer, meet the Chosen of Creation, Marinette, and one of my other brothers, the Chosen of Destruction, Adrien. Guys, Bobby Singer, he’s a Hunter. Like Dawn’s family.”

“Pleasure to meet ya,” Bobby nodded.

They got down to business after that.

Marinette looked over the spell and blinked, “Yes, we can do this easily. Adrien?”

“Of course, My Lady. Suits?”

“Yes, I think so. Tikki—” the little goddess emerged from a pocket.

“Plagg—” so did the little god.

“Spots on!”

“Claws out!”

Transformation complete, the couple took up their positions.

“What the—” Bobby muttered.

“They’re superheroes,” Dean explained, bouncing on his heels, “literally, the Chosen of Creation and of Destruction. Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

“Ready, Minou?” Ladybug asked.

“Ready, Bugaboo,” Noir answered.

Together, working in perfect harmony, they performed the ritual without a single misstep or stutter.

Then it was over and they hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Ladybug picked up the amulet, now just a smoking, ruined thing, and pursed her lips, “It was beautiful. Pity it was so evil.”

“You’re able to make something prettier,” Noir argued.

Ladybug sighed, nodding reluctantly, before asking Bobby, “Do you have any idea what exactly this was, Monsieur Singer?”

“Somethin’ nasty,” he replied, shaking his head tiredly, “somethin’ that shouldn’t exist.”

“Do you know what it was?” Dean questioned curiously.

“It reminded me of that tiara Harry was given,” Noir said, frowning, further explaining, “the blackest magics from his world, Dean. You were never told but it was a soul anchor. A fragment of soul so corrupted the rest would not pass on after death. Papa says it was less than a ghost. More like a ghost of a ghost of a ghost.”

Dean had paled, “You mean something from that Riddle dude. The one that went bad and was gunning for the Potters and the Longbottoms?”

“Exactly,” Ladybug nodded with a glare at the former amulet, “not exactly like that, but close.”

“’cuse me,” Bobby interrupted politely, “but, what the hell is a soul anchor?”

“It’s a way to cheat death,” Dean explained, “Dad explained that much. Idea is you break your soul, hide a piece, and as long as that piece’s intact you don’t even become a ghost. You become a…shade. Then, if you’re smart enough, you find or make yourself a new body and off you go on your evil, crazy way.”

“Only a madman would break his soul for that reason,” Ladybug sniffed almost imperiously, “the soul is the most precious thing a being has, in all of Creation. It is better to die.”

“Once you split your soul,” Noir added, “there’s almost no going back; and you get…you go mad, because it was never meant to happen in the first place.”

Bobby was pale now, sickened by the implications.

Noir continued, “The man who went after our brothers; he broke this soul multiple times, each time breaking his internal piece in half.”

“Where did you find this?” Ladybug asked.

“A Hunter dropped it off,” Bobby said, taking off his hat and shaking his head, “said he thought it was a bog-standard cursed thing, you know? Nothing I threw at it destroyed the damned thing. Then I found that spell. But that sorta power, it should kill people.”

“But I dropped by by chance,” Dean added, “heard about the spell and—”

“Called us in,” Ladybug nodded in understanding.

They detransformed.

The two little flying things reappeared.

“Tikki, Plagg!” Dean called and the little creatures swarmed him.

“What the—”

“Tiny gods,” Adrien explained, laughing as his partner demanded cheese and Dean offered string-cheese, “Tikki, the ladybug, is the Kwami of Creation, where we’re from, and Plagg, the black cat, is Kwami of Destruction. They lend us their powers, allowing us to become Ladybug and Chat Noir respectively.”

Bobby looked at Dean fairly hugging the tiny—Kwami?—with some surprised amusement.

“Tikki loves children,” Marinette said softly, smiling, “all the Kwami do—yes, there’s more of them. But, anyways, whenever Adrien’s siblings needed babysitting, we’d help out. Including the Kwami.”

“Ah,” Bobby could understand that; if he had raised, or helped raise, a few kids he’d probably see them as kids forever too.

Then the bug one—Tikki, Tikki was her name, was in front of him and offering a tiny hand, “Pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Singer.”

“Honor to meet you, as well,” he used a finger to shake her hand, because she was tiny.

She darted closer, explaining, “The Kwami look after all the Phantom children. While we may have favorites, we love all of them equally.”

She glanced at Dean and Plagg, “Plagg won’t admit it but he does favor Dean. Says the boy would have made a good Chat.”

Bobby nodded thoughtfully, “And Sam, Your Majesty?”

Tikki giggled at his address but answered, “Roaar, the Tiger. His ability is to turn emotions into power. Something happened to Samuel as a babe, before the Phantoms gained custody, that made him a good match. Though the boy will never wield the Miraculous. His Majesty Daniel Phantom decreed that no more of his children will be chosen. Chat Noir was grandfathered in and Lady Noir was a temporary choice.”

“Dad and Mom want us all safe and happy,” Dean spoke up and Adrien nodded.

Chapter Text

A New Daughter:

Sam took her newest daughter into her arms; she had been summoned this time.

“Are you sure?” she asked gently, softly.

Patricia Halliwell and her lover, also named Sam, nodded tearfully.

“I need you to verbalize it.”

“We’re sure.”

The Queen nodded, “Okay. We’ll take—”

“Paige,” Patricia interrupted softly, “we—named her Paige.”

Queen Sam nodded again, indulgently, “We will take Paige as our own. In return we will not speak of her to this world until she wishes it.”

Patricia seemed to slump in relief, “Thank you. Thank you.”

Deal made, a portal opened back up to take the Queen back to the Palace.

Holding Paige tight, she stepped through and called out, once the portal closed, “Danny! It’s a girl!”

He arrived shortly, peering at the baby, “Okay. Details?”

“Two months old, witch-whitelighter, a kind of angel I’m told, hybrid. She’s against the Rules of her world.”

Danny sighed, running a hand through his hair, “Of course she is. Well, she’s ours now. I’ll contact Zatanna and Hogwarts, get the balls rolling there. If she’s part angel of some sort then she’ll be powerful.”

“For now, let’s just get her settled in and send word to everyone.”

“Yeah.”

Chapter Text

Dean Doesn't Drive The Impala:

“It doesn’t look like much,” Dean said as he led Bobby toward a rather nondescript RV.

It wasn’t top of the line or very outdated but it was something Bobby hadn’t given a second glance to, let alone a third.

Dean grinned and unlocked the door; a panel appeared and he pressed his hand to it.

The door opened.

“Little more high-tech than this world,” Dean explained, motioning Bobby in, “and a whole lotta magic on it.”

Bobby stopped dead in his tracks once inside; it was a full-scale living room behind the cab and he could see a hallway branching off into at least three doors and a kitchen.

“Expansion charms,” Dean explained further, “two bedrooms, a bathroom, kitchen-dining room combo, and the living room. The couch is a pullout too.”

Bobby choked in shock.

Chapter Text

Paige gets to know her Bio-Sisters:

“Oh, god no,” Paige said, reading the page in the book, “that’s outdated. Like, badly. Dad beat Pariah Dark decades ago.”

Piper visibly thought before handing Paige a pen.

Paige went to work; she even pulled out a family photo, from her wallet, to stick to the page and then circled her parents.

“That’s the Ghost King?” Phoebe questioned, taking in the human looking man.

“Don’t be fooled,” Paige chuckled, still writing, “Dad’s been king since he was sixteen. I’m his and Mom’s youngest. They’re in their fifties now. Youngest of twelve, not counting you two and Prue.”

“Twelve?!”

“Eleven adopted, yes. Eleven Wished Away, like I was.”

“What do you mean ‘Wished Away’?” Piper asked.

“All the adopted kids were sold—soul-wise—for something or other,” Paige explained, pausing and looking at the Halliwells, “I was sold to protect me, and you. Patricia would have gotten into terrible trouble. Three siblings were accidentally Wished Away for their own protection. One was to save his mom, two for revenge, and so on.”

Phoebe reached forward to put a hand on the other’s shoulder but upon contact gasped, her eyes flying shut.

“I see it,” she choked out, tears coming from her eyes and down her cheeks, “every…oh my god.”

Then her eyes opened, after a few minutes, “Piper, she’s telling the truth. She…her family are good. They’re…they’re a family. No matter where they came from.”

“I thought your power was premonition,” Paige said, “not retrocognition.”

“Sometimes she does get the past,” Piper nodded, “but mostly the future.”

“Oh,” Paige continued writing, “how much did you get off me?”

“You’re better trained than us,” Phoebe said shakily, “Hogwarts, Gryffindor House. You use a wand, vine wood, unicorn hair, average length; you did great at potion-making and Defense Against the Dark Arts but are horrible at Divination. Not in your powerset. You’re best at healing, your whitelighter half coming through.”

“Really?” Paige asked, interested, “Mom thought so but we couldn’t be sure.”

“We’ll get Leo to talk to you,” Piper offered, adding, “he’s our assigned whitelighter and my husband.”

“But the Rules—”

“Piper and Leo got them changed,” Phoebe grinned, “through the Power of Love!”

“Oh, shut up!” Piper swatted at her sister, but she was smiling.

“Oh, so you two were Destined. That makes sense.”

“Huh?”

“Some things are destined, small ‘d’, so they can be avoided but some things are Destined, capital ‘d’, so they can’t be avoided. If two people are Destined, they will get together eventually. I’m guessing it was easier to let the Charmed One do what she wanted than fight it.”

Piper looked faintly embarrassed, “I…might have had a meltdown and threatened a strike.”

“Oh, yeah. If the Charmed Ones are as powerful as you people say, then yeah, that’d work.

A portal opened and, ignoring the two alarmed witches, a man stepped out.

He had dark hair, green eyes, and wore glasses.

“Everything good here, Paige?” he asked, “You missed your check in.”

Paige winced, “I did? Sorry. Piper, Phoebe, my big brother Harry Potter—yeah, that Harry Potter. Harry, my bio-sisters, the Charmed Ones, Piper and Phoebe Halliwell.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Harry nodded.

Chapter Text

Sam has a chat with Bruce:

“Not gonna lie, Bruce,” Sam said, over the rim of her teacup, “it was hard. I love Dami but we were just kids. There were nights…there were nights when we all broke down and cried with the baby. Times we had to put him down and walk away or we each would’ve done…something or other.”

Bruce nodded in understanding; he was glad that Damian had a loving family but they had been just teens. Old enough to experience unplanned parenthood, in the normal way, but still in school and with the King’s other duties.

“I think, the only way we managed is because I’m Wayne wealthy,” she admitted, after taking a sip and setting down the cup, “so that took a lotta pressure off. Mom and Dad weren’t…happy exactly, that we suddenly had a baby. They demanded a DNA test before they believed us. But then they set up a…fund for his needs. It got easier, with my parents, when we got Chat. They believed us more then, ‘cause he was way too old to be…well, ours. No matter if I was sleeping with Danny or Tucker—which I wasn’t—Chat was just too old.”

Again, Bruce nodded.

“Then they got to see a Wishing Away, Sammy and Dean; they believe us completely now. “

“And the King’s family?”

“Believed us from the start,” Sam said with a soft smile, “they welcomed Damian from the word go. They weren’t happy with his original family, but he is a Fenton and Fentons take care of their own. We already had Danielle before anyone else and she was more of a surprise, especially her genetic makeup. So a Wished Away baby? They weren’t mad at us. They stepped in and helped when we were breaking, couldn’t’ve done it without them.”

She sighed, “We took Dami everywhere with us. That was probably a mistake—he had some issues come preschool—but he was just so…”

“The King said he might’ve been a little premature.” Bruce rumbled.

“We think so. So does his pediatrician. He’s caught up, now, but yeah. Part of the reason we took him everywhere.”

“Part of the reason?”

“We didn’t wanna just dump him on our parents,” Sam replied, “we—the three of us—decided early on we weren’t going be those teen parents. And I think the only reason we managed that is because there were three of us. Tucker became a hands-on uncle, a third parent. He didn’t have to, you know? He could’ve just backed away from us. But he didn’t.”

“You had no claim or responsibility for Damian either,” Bruce pointed out.

“No,” she agreed, “but I was already…I knew I loved Danny, even back then, had a hunch he was the one for me. Besides, we already had Danielle between us. I knew Danny would’ve done well on his own with Damian but I wasn’t going to abandon him…them.”

“How did you do it? What did you tell everyone?”

“The truth, Bruce. Oh. Everyone was pissed for him. Everyone pitched in where they could to help us. There were still rumors, of course. There’s always been rumors about us. But those were rare enough.”

Chapter Text

Sam's chat with Bruce continued:

She smiled, “Dami became a sorta mascot for our grade; everyone decided to help Danny—because he’s Phantom—so of course they helped with his kids. The amount of times we passed him to a classmate during ghost attacks—”

And Bruce could see it.

It was SOP: evacuate civilians and then deal with the threat at hand.

It also said something about their school, that any teenager could be trusted with a baby in an emergency.

“Anyone who got Damian during an attack,” Sam continued, “they made beelines for FentonWorks—Danny’s home, though with Damian we all basically moved in. We rotated between his house and my family’s mansion. It used to be just Danielle going back and forth. Split custody, you understand.”

Bruce nodded. It also made sense that they had a custody arrangement for their daughter that worked for all of them.

“We changed over on the weekends for Dani—Danielle,” she explained, “so he had her for a week and I had her for a week housing wise. Practically, though, we were a complete family unit. I’d have dinner at his place during his week, he’d come for dinner during my week. I handled the bills for Danielle—halfas eat much more than humans, he did the shopping for both places. Homework we both helped with. Once one of us got a car, me because nobody trusted Danny with how he flew back then, we’d all head to our schools together. We dropped her off at her school together, unless a ghost showed up, and she’d walk to wherever she was that week because her school let out a little earlier. Her teachers worked with us, very understanding about the…unique situation, we both attended every meeting, went to every extracurricular we could. No matter whose week it was Danny took her out flying and playfighting.”

Bruce was impressed by their dedication to their daughter who they never asked for in the first place. It was a very workable plan for teenagers, but only because they had had so much support.

Sam sighed, “But we had to change when we got Damian. We all basically moved in together, mostly at FentonWorks. The four of us shared Danny’s room. Though every so often me and Tucker would go home for a night so we could catch up on sleep. I’d take Danielle with me. I hated doing it, going home and leaving Danny alone with the baby, but he insisted. Said someone might as well get some sleep.”

“Some inhuman beings don’t require as much sleep as humans,” Bruce rumbled, “is that true of the King?”

“Eh…” Sam made a so-so motion with a hand, “he can go longer without sleep, as long as he stays in ghost form. But, after a certain point, as soon as he switches back, he crashes hard and long. Then when he wakes back up he eats enough to feed four average humans.”

“Huh.” And Bruce wasn’t expecting that but he supposed it made some sense.

The King was still half human after all.

“He’s learned this meditation technique though,” she added, “that’s like power-napping. It helps. And now that the Zone’s somewhat back in what passes as Order, the ghosts haven’t been bothering the living as much or often. Not like when we were kids. Besides, I can take care of some of the more administrative duties. Paperwork mostly, my signature’s almost as good as his.”

“And your other children?”

“We made it work. We adjusted when we got Chat, because he needed to stay in his Paris so we got him an apartment for the week, and we often visited, and he came home on the weekends. Clockwork made him a special watch that would act as a portal back and forth as needed and Ladybug learned how to summon him like he was a ghost so she could get him from us if needed. We took Harry and Neville until we sorted out their Dark Lord problem, at least temporarily because we weren’t allowed to completely deal with their problems for them. Same with Dawnie. We could actually deal with her situation fully. Each kid we welcomed and adjusted for. We have some nannies as extra hands, rather like Alfred for you, but we don’t let them raise the children for us. We still get up at night with Anakin, we still attend school meetings and sports games and whatnot, we help with what homework we can, we have sleepovers and birthday parties and gotcha day parties. Our kids are our kids no matter blood or not.”

Chapter Text

Sam and Bruce's chat continued again:

And that, Bruce could understand.

His kids were his, not the charity cases most saw them as.

Each and every one of them were his, blood or not be damned and he had also adjusted his life for each.

From Dick Grayson needing stability and routine to Damian Fenton requiring a custody arrangement and never donning the Robin mantle.

From the tiny, everyday adjustments like Dick liking sugary cereal a tad too much to Damian needing unused candles and parchment to contact his other family during his visits when something important came up. From keeping an eye out for first editions for Jason to watching Tim’s caffeine intake closely to attending Cass’s ballet recitals.

From memorizing medical histories to knowing what sort of discipline worked best for each and what could cause traumatic flashbacks and regressions.

Sam smiled softly, knowing that he understood, before adding, “We made mistakes, of course. We still make mistakes. But we make new mistakes with each kid and we learn for the next time.”

“Your Majesty,” Bruce addressed her as the Queen and not just a fellow parent, “thank you.”

“For what?” she blinked.

“For everything you’ve done for Damian…for the rest of your children.”

“Oh,” she blushed lightly before shaking her head, “no thanks needed. They’re my children. Damian’s mine, couldn’t be more mine than if I birthed him myself.”

“And of his maternal family?”

Sam’s eyes seemed to glow briefly, backlit by some holy or unholy light, “If they every come near him again, without damned good reason and profuse apologies, groveling even, then we use the army to wipe out their little Cult-League.”

Bruce startled, “Wha—?"

“We did our research,” she said, “once we narrowed down where he came from dimensionally. We know what his grandfather is, Bruce. Turns out, those Pits of his are corrupted ectoplasmic pools.”

Bruce’s mind whirled.

“And his repeated use of them puts his entire bloodline into our jurisdiction,” she continued, smirking now, “he’s been misusing them, Bruce. Breaking the natural order of things. Selling Damian was just another mark against them. They step a single toe towards our boy and we will retaliate. We’re content to let things lie now, let the human world deal with them because they are still alive.”

Batman thought on that and found he couldn’t argue with their reasoning as much as he wanted to. They would destroy the League of Assassins and he couldn’t stop it. He would be punching far beyond his weight class if he tried and he had no right to even attempt it anyway.

Constantine and Zatanna had taught him enough to know not to even try to bend the Dead to his own Will without damned good reason. And saving a cult of killers was not a good enough reason.

Bruce didn’t want to stop it. They had sold his son for being weak as a newborn. They hadn’t even tried contacting him and that miserable thing masquerading as a human worth a damn had sold a child, his own flesh and blood, his own precious male heir to extend his own wretched life yet again.

“We might give his biological mother a chance,” Sam mused aloud, “Danny said she seemed pretty abused herself, cowed. She was the one that named Damian, you know? But if she proves unsalvageable then she goes too. We’re not taking any chances with his safety.”

Talia had been abused by Ra’s most of her life, Bruce could agree to that; alternately spoiled as a princess and then cast aside for male heirs; brainwashed by her father into absolute loyalty despite his cruelty.

Had she even loved her son or had that ability been beaten out of her, sometimes literally? She had named the boy, apparently, the name they had discussed no less, but then had allowed him to be sold to an uncertain fate.

Batman had done his own research and the previous King would have no doubt used Damian as a sacrifice for Power, not treated, loved him as son.

Pariah Dark was infamous for a reason and his vanquisher warily watched for the same.

Chapter Text

Little More Between Sam and Bruce:

But, perhaps they should have been watching the Queen; this woman whose eyes were still glowing as she promised retribution, a smiting, in defense of her child.

Batman saw the threat; Bruce saw the parent he was damn glad Damian had.

Her eyes dimmed back to normal, “But, we don’t want to use the army like that; it might upset the Balance. It’s not for us to punish the living unless they themselves upset the Balance. Ra’s has, his little cult not so much.”

“You’re alive.”

“I’m Persephone,” she explained, “without the custody agreement and genocidal mother. When Danny took me as his Queen, when I agreed, I…I was already Liminal, most of Amity is, that means ectoplasmically touched but not ghostly,” she clarified, “but by taking the throne beside the Ghost King, I…something changed in me. At the genetic level. It really doesn’t help that I was once turned into something like your Poison Ivy lady, by an Ancient Ghost.”

“Ancient Ghost?”

“Ancients are…basically gods, Bruce. One, Undergrowth, is Father Nature. Green and Growing Things. He…possessed me? Somewhat? Tried making me into Mother Nature.”

“Poison Ivy,” Bruce realized, horrified.

“Yeah. Same powerset but with a ghostly…bent to it. We beat him. So I’m…mostly back to normal. Still have some innate understanding of plants but not outright control of them.”

“Damian…”

“Is Liminal, yes,” Sam nodded, “no outward signs yet, so we’re not sure if he’ll ever manifest some…think of Liminality as metagene activation,” she added for his benefit, “there’s a certain set of traits you can get from it, you may manifest one trait, or two, or three, or all of them.”

She smiled and suddenly her teeth were pointed, sharp, “I got the fangs. Danny’s family—his mom, dad, and sister, all have pointy ears and fangs, better hearing and inhuman strength, but they’re living around the Portal. Now my Liminality manifests with plants.”

Chapter Text

After Paige meets her Sisters:

“What happened?” Adrien asked, seeing his parents were younger than him now by a good twenty years.

“Clockwork,” Sam seethed, “he gave us water from the Fountain of Youth—without warning us!”

“Something about giving us more time for more heirs,” Danny added, snorting darkly, “like we hadn’t been trying for the past thirty years.”

Their children nodded in sympathy but never pity; quite a few of them had children, either adopted or not, and knew of the pressures the Royals had been under to produce more biological children.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, a tick all the children had picked up from their father or Uncle, nodding, “I’ll ask Mum to make the most powerful fertility potion she can.”

“Maybe a blessing by Tikki?” Adrien offered.

“A fertility spell might help?” was Paige’s contribution, “Especially one chanted by the Charmed Ones?”

“One thing at a time,” Neville chuckled, “or they might end up with octuplets!”

Chapter Text

Even more of Sam's and Bruce's talk (Or: Things aren't all Sunshine and Roses):

She stood up and walked to the potted rose bush Alfred had brought in and sunk her fingers into the soil.

Immediately, the roses seemed to bloom a bit more, a little brighter, a little straighter.

“That’s about all I can do,” she explained, seemingly slightly winded, “and I can’t do it too often, especially outside of the Realms. More ectoplasm around me, the more I can do. Outside the Realms, I’m just a really knowledgeable botanist.”

Bruce nodded as she retook her seat and reached for her teacup.

“I’m not a ghost or even part ghost,” she continued, “not like Danny or Danielle. Liminals aren’t ghosts, though we might have a better than average chance of becoming ghosts when we die…”

“But you’re the Queen?”

“Danny absolutely refused any other Queen than one he chose,” Sam said, “his—well, our parliament now—but they tried. Bruce. They tried to make him marry a ghost. He refused. We were already engaged, or well engaged to be engaged, promise rings you know, he loves me just as much as I love him. He said either he chooses or he steps down and the Realms goes back to chaos. It was a mess, you know. A thousand years without a proper leader. Little fiefdoms and kingdoms had sprung up. Most fell back into line and we don’t want or need total control anyways. Half the first few years Danny was in so many diplomatic meetings, trying to avoid outright wars. He started taking classes in government and politics and psychology at the local community college, on top of high school. I did too.”

Bruce leaned back thoughtfully, “You did manage to calm things though?”

“Yeah. Oh, our inherited Court hated it,” she smirked, “I was just supposed to sit there and pop out half-ghost heirs.”

“But you’re an active leader.”

“Yes. I’m Danny’s equal. Like I said, my signature’s almost as good as his,” she sighed, “I’m still—my position’s shaky. If Danny dies and doesn’t just become a full ghost, I’m not even allowed to be Regent for Danielle. She’ll be crowned Queen automatically, then I’m at her mercy. She won’t do anything to me, she’s made that clear. The Observants—inherited Court—hate that and they hate our human wards.”

“Damian.”

“Is not in line for the throne. As soon as Danny dies, and doesn’t become a full ghost, all contracts will transfer to the next King or Queen. All souls will be at their mercy. Danielle’s said that if anything happens to both me and Danny and we don’t become ghosts, Damian goes to you for his safety.”

“You expect trouble, from the transfer of Power,” Bruce noted.

“Yes. Because Danielle—we love her—but she was only supposed to be a clone. A copy. Some people don’t like the fact a simple clone will have what amounts to Ultimate Power. So we have bugout plans for each kid we have. If that happens, Bruce, you need to have every mage and witch and wizard you know put every anti-ghost ward on everywhere Damian goes, hell, on Damian himself. None of our usual problem children will bother him, might even help, but there will be ghosts that want to wipe out anything to do with Danny.”

“Understood.”

“And,” Sam closed her eyes, pain on her face, “if something happens to Danielle, if she dies for good and doesn’t become a full ghost then all our wards are in grave danger. The contracts will go to Anyone on the throne.”

“No.”

“Yes. Bruce, Danny would never—but Pariah would’ve. There’re ghosts that would. We own the kids. We can enslave them, make them servant zombies. Puppets. Anything we want. Hell, Danny can use each kid as a permanent meat suit. Just take out the soul and he can move right on in and go about his life with what amounts to a new set of clothes.”

Bruce blanched, “No.”

“Danny never would,” she stressed, “he wouldn’t even think about it beyond the fact that he knows he can.”

But someone would, could.

Possession was no laughing matter.

And Damian…all the children were at risk of it.

Chapter Text

The End of Sam and Bruce's Chat:

“Thankfully, Danny’s slated to become a full ghost,” Sam assured, “so I am—too much ecto-contamination. And Unfinished Business. Besides, we have powerful friends—ghost friends—who don’t want to deal with the inevitable chaos.”

“Unfinished Business?”

“Well, Danny’s is being King,” she explained, “not a job you get to leave just because of a little thing like dying—we think. There’s never been a half-alive King before. My Unfinished Business is helping Danny. We also have the kids depending on us. So, more Unfinished Business.”

“Ghosts can be destroyed,” Bruce grunted out, a little more Batman than Bruce.

“Yes, they can,” she agreed sadly, “but it’s very hard to do in the Zone, the Realms. Too much ectoplasm around for most ways to stick. The one way—which I’m not gonna be telling you, thanks—is so Final it’s…Taboo. Because once you do it to a ghost, they just cease existing completely. No Moving On, no Next Great Adventure. They’re Done and Over With. Only someone like Pariah would do that and if that happens the Zone’s in bigger trouble than a bad transfer of Power or civil war.”

Batman’s mind whirled; what could be Taboo amongst the dead? What could a ghost fear beyond Death itself?

War was one thing to say was horrible and a worst-case scenario so what could the dead Fear so strongly even the most dreaded would double-think It?

He was distracted by Damian coming in, Dick behind him, “Mother!”

“Yes,” Sam smiled warmly, leaning to be eye-level with her son.

“Richard has offered to teach me acrobatics,” Damian said seriously, “may I please?”

“Really?” her eyebrow went up and she looked to Bruce’s oldest.

“Just some tricks, nothing Robin,” he assured.

“Actually,” Bruce cut across him, “perhaps we should be teaching him Robin style. He won’t ever be Robin, of course,” he hurriedly added, “but if you will he might be better able to defend himself, Your Majesty.”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she thought about it.

Then.

“Yes. But he will never be a Robin, you hear me, Bruce?”

“Loud and clear, Your Majesty.”

Chapter Text

Danielle is Sent to Check in on Clark and Connor:

The Portal opened in the living room; Clark tensed but only a young woman came out, one he actually recognized.

“Hi Superman,” Danielle, Princess of the Infinite Realms, said breezily, ignoring that he was currently not in uniform, “sorry to drop in but Dad wanted to do a surprise visit, see how things are going with Connor. He’s busy though so…” she shrugged carelessly.

Clark nodded; he supposed that made sense. He certainly wouldn’t abandon someone like Connor to a new living situation and then never check up on the boy.

“Welcome,” he replied, “call me Clark, it’s my human name.”

“Oh, sorry,” she apologized sincerely, “you can just call me Dani, since Dad isn’t here too.”

Clark nodded, “Well, do you like hot chocolate Dani? Connor’s on his way back from the farm and his grandparents.”

Dani smiled and nodded like a younger child.

Clark made three cups of hot chocolate and carried them out to where Dani had taken a seat on the sofa.

“Do you send Connor to the farm often?” she asked casually enough, blowing on her hot chocolate, but Clark was a reporter and heard the real question ‘how often do you send him away from humans?’

“Once or twice a week, to help work out his powers,” Clark answered honestly, “the farm’s pretty isolated, even for Smallville, so he doesn’t have to hide as much. Ma and Pa know what to do and I got with him as often as possible anyways.”

Dani nodded, sipping her drink, “Next question: is he in school?”

“Bruce has paid for several private teachers, who’re all buried under NDAs and contracts. Connor has his lessons in the morning. If I’m not working, we work on controlling his powers. If I am he goes to either his grandparents or Bruce. Once we’re all, including Connor himself, comfortable with his control then we’ll get him into a school.”

“Okay. Good. Does he have any friends outside of me?”

“He’s friends with Bruce’s kids and the proteges of a couple colleagues; he doesn’t have any civilian friends yet. He doesn’t feel comfortable yet.”

“Humans are very squishy,” she agreed in understanding, before confiding, “Mom hired me tutors too, ‘til we were comfortable with my control. And me and Dad aren’t nearly as strong as you and Connor—well,” she pouted, like a smaller child displeased, “Dad might be now. I’m still not.”

Clark nodded, “I’m sure you’ll be a strong as him one day then.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” she shrugged again, “you know how I’m a clone—like Connor right? Half human half something else?”

“Yes?”

“Luthor at least had experts working on the clone project that made Connor and he was a result deemed good enough to invest more care into. My…creator was just one nutjob working alone and off some extremely unstable DNA to begin with. That’s why he had to add Mom’s in.”

“Christ,” Clark murmured.

“He was perfectly happy to use me to save the perfect clone,” Danielle explained, grimacing in guilt and a little grief, “I wasn’t the only clone, Clark. Just the one to survive long enough to meet Dad—another scheme by my creator to get more DNA—and Grandpa Jack and Grandma Maddie made a stabilizing agent while Dad used his own ectoplasm and more of Mom’s DNA to hold me together. Injections every twelve hours.”

Clark’s stomach dropped, “Connor—he’s—”

“Stable,” she assured, “we got the cloning files for his creation. He also wasn’t the first, just the first success past the embryonic stage. His creators wanted him stable.”

Dani reached into the pocket of her sweatshirt and pulled out a thumb-drive, handing it over, “All the information we got from the labs that were working the cloning project plus the notes Grandpa and Grandma Fenton took while they ran their own tests, making sure he was okay. Uncle Tucker had to decrypt a lotta the files so that’s why we didn’t get it to you sooner. We’ve kept copies too.”

Clark took the tiny object and nodded his thanks.

Connor arrived at that point, coming in through the door like a human; he grinned when he saw Dani, “Hey, you.”

“Hey yourself,” she grinned back, “Dad wanted me to check in with you and Clark so sorta official business this time. Then he said I’m free for whatever.”

Connor nodded, taking a seat and picking up the third cup of hot chocolate, “I’m happy here.”

“Good to hear. Just have to check, you know?"

"I get it."

Chapter Text

Snippits of Scoobynatural:

“Dammit!” he punched a wall, “freakin’ shades.”

“Dean—”

“We can’t call Dad, Sammy,” Dean rumbled, “whatever sorta magic dimension this is, my comm doesn’t work here. And I don’t wanna try a Summoning, in case he gets stuck here when we get out.”

“Summoning? Magic?” Velma scoffed and Dean rounded on her.

“Okay, you can be quiet,” he ordered, “whatever’s going on, people have died. You might not like it but all that occult bullshit? It’s real. Either help us or shut up and stay out of the way.”

Velma’s jaw dropped but she mercifully stayed quiet for the moment.

“You think it’s a shade?” Sam asked his brother worriedly.

“All the hallmarks of one, hope to the Ancients that it isn’t a soul anchor situation. Those are a bitch to deal with and we don’t have the tools needed.”

“Say we believe you,” Velma finally spoke again, nervously, “what can we do against real ghosts?”

“Iron, salt,” Dean said gruffly, “iron hurts ghosts and salt can be used to trap them.”

“…I think the candlesticks are iron,” Fred offered, picking up one and studying it.

“There must be some salt in the kitchens,” Daphne added with a firm nod.

“What we really need to do is find why the ghost’s a ghost,” Sam continued, “usually there’s something anchoring a ghost to this plane of existence, an item or some Unfinished Business to deal with.”

“And what does your dad have to do with this?” Velma asked intently.

Dean snorted, “Our Dad’s the Ghost King—”

“Rost Ring?!” Scooby yelped, hunkering low to the floor and covering his eyes with his paws.

“Yeah, King of Ghosts,” Sam nodded, “every ghost and other noncorporeal undead is in his jurisdiction so to speak—it’s a long story, how he became our Dad.”

“So he could just, like, tell the ghost off?” Shaggy asked hopefully.

“He could, if we could get him here,” Sam agreed, “but he’s outta reach. We have to do this the old fashion way.”

“Dude doesn’t seem talky so we’re gonna have to turn this place upside down,” Dean explained, “looking for whatever they want.”

“What could a ghost want?” Shaggy asked plaintively.

“Sometimes they weren’t buried properly,” Dean lectured, “so they want to be buried right; sometimes they left instructions—like a Will—that weren’t followed. Maybe they had a favorite stuffy they want. Our family dog—” he motioned to Sam and himself, “came back for his squeaky toy and just hung around.”

“So, it is a mystery!” Velma brightened.

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Mystery.”

“Could it have something to do with the Colonel’s Will,” Daphne asked next, obviously thinking.

“Could be, but not likely,” Sam allowed.

----SNIPPIT-----

“Cas!” Dean hugged his partner tightly, “Man! I am glad to see you!”

“You know this guy?” Fred asked.

“He’s my partner,” Dean grinned sappily, “Castiel.”

“Sounds like a good Italian restaurant,” Shaggy chuckled before introducing himself and everyone else.

“Dean, the dog is talking. Dean,” Cas murmured, obviously distressed by the Great Dane.

Scooby blinked and grinned.

----SNIPPIT-----

“A kid,” Dean and Sam growled together before calming themselves and kneeling outside the trap.

“Hey, hey kid,” Dean spoke gently, “hey, we’re not gonna hurt ya.”

The boy, because he was just a little boy, looked up, sniffling, “I didn’t wanna! The bad man made me.”

The tension palpably rocketed up; those who would command ghosts were abomination to the Realms, except under extreme circumstances. For the Living to control the Dead and make them harm other Living was abhorrent and would be dealt with harshly by the King himself.

But they couldn’t contact their father, so it fell to them.

“What’s your name, kid?” Sam questioned just as gently as Dean, “What can we call you?”

“Davy.” The boy sniffled.

“Well, Davy, we can help you,” Dean said, “do you know what’s holding you here?”

“My pocketknife,” Davy sniffled more, “my dad gave it to me…I just want my dad!”

“Okay, it’s okay,” Sam consoled, “do you know who the bad man is?”

“Jay. His name’s Jay. He…he keeps my knife and makes me…makes me hurt people.”

The brothers and angel shared a dark, knowing look.

Jay was in for a world of hurt.

----SNIPPIT-----

“It’s just a kid,” Velma breathed out in shock.

“Someone else was controlling him,” Sam explained, steadying her and Daphne, “he didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“A kid,” Daphne repeated, as the Scooby Gang stared at Davy, who was standing by Dean.

“I’m sorry,” Davy cried, “I didn’t wanna.”

“Roh, Riddo,” Scooby walked over to the little ghost, “re’re not mad.”

“Yeah, if someone made you do all this,” Fred nodded, before looking to Dean, Sam, and Castiel, “what do we do now?”

“We—” Dean motioned to the three of them, “take this little dude home and stop bad man. You five go on with your lives. You know the truth now. You know about salt and iron and fire. Lots of things die if you set them on fire.”

“That’s it?” Shaggy asked, disbelievingly.

“That’s it,” Castiel nodded.

“It’s all you can do,” Dean added, shrugging, “we’re not gonna lie to you, say it was all wires and dummies and corn syrup, you’ll have to call the police in the morning. Don’t tell them ghosts did it. They won’t believe you.”

----SNIPPIT-----

The King emerged, causing the lights of the shop to flash and skits.

“Wha—” Jay tried to run but Castiel held him tight.

Danny unfurled, wearing his regalia, “Jay Bianchi! You stand accused of meddling with the dead, forcing the dead to work your will and commit your crimes! You perverted the Balance for financial gain! Not only that, but the spirit of a child was your slave! A child! What say you in your defense?”

“Wh—who are you?!”

“King Daniel Phantom of the Infinite Realms,” Dean introduced with gravitas, “High King of the Ghost Zone, Arbitrator of the Balance…yadda, yadda, yadda.”

“David Jones, the child you enslaved,” The King continued, “is one of My subjects, under My protection. You committed a crime against the Dead and We demand Compensation.”

“I didn’t—I thought—it was just a ghost!” Jay cried.

“A thinking, feeling being,” the King shot back, “the ghost of a child no less. You assumed there would be no punishment, did you not?”

The King sat back and thought, before nodding to himself and saying, “I decree, you will serve out your sentence in the human world, for your crimes against your fellow humans, and then, when you die you will be damned to be a ghost yourself and thus be at My mercy. My mercy being a sentence of three-hundred years in Our prison.”

“Sentence—what—what—”

Red and blue lights bathed the shop.

“Turns out,” Sam said cruelly, “you haven’t paid your taxes, pal. We hacked your financials. Here’s a tip, don’t piss off a lawyer.”

“Good enough for Capone,” Dean nodded, “good enough for you.”

The cops came in and arrested Jay, not seeing the King who was now invisible and observing mortal justice being meted out.

“I would’ve gotten away with it,” Bianchi snarled, as he was perp-walked out, “if not for those meddling kids!”

“He said it!” Dean bounced like a little boy again, “he said the line! Guys! He said it!”

Chapter Text

Anakin and Obi-wan Meet:

“Hello there, Anakin,” Obi-wan greeted the boy, crouching down, “my name is Obi-wan; I am going to be your teacher in the Force, if you agree.”

Force, Anakin was small. He should have still been in the creche, not seeking a teacher of his own.

But Obi-wan could sense the sheer power the child had, a presence in the Force not unlike a Master of great renown but terribly unfocused all the same like all children.

Anakin stayed beside his mother, not afraid, cautious.

He was cautious.

But not afraid.

Unguarded as he was, powerful as he was, Anakin inadvertently showed off the bedrock he stood on, buoyed by love and familial strength. He was secure in his own self, as much as any child his age could be.

His shields, nothing like those of a Jedi, were however nothing to sneeze at once the boy realized he was projecting and brought them to bear.

“Nicely done, Anakin,” the Queen praised simply and she earned a smile and a nod from her son.

Even a Force-Null could bear witness to Anakin’s Power, in this Realm, it seemed.

“Yes, Anakin, that was very nicely done,” Obi-wan agreed because it was; he still caught brief sensation leaking from the boy but nothing like the Heaviness of before.

Anakin gave him a small smile as well before saying, “Mister J’onn says I’m strong but I need more practice. Will you help me practice, Mister Obi-wan?”

“I will help you with many things,” Obi-wan promised, smiling, “you’ll even learn new things with me, if you want.”

Anakin’s eyes went wide, “Can I have a laser sword? Like my Dad?”

Obi-wan’s eyebrow went up as the Queen sighed, “Dammit, Danny.”

“You will be allowed a lightsaber, yes. I’ll guide you in building it. In fact, if your parents allow it, we’ll go on a fieldtrip, just you and I, to find an integral part of your ‘saber.”

“You might have to take a couple guards,” the Queen said musingly, running a hand through Anakin’s hair, “but if you mean a trip for his crystal thing, then I don’t see why not—we familiarized ourselves with the customs of your fictional counterparts just in case,” she further explained for Obi-wan, “all Jedi students go crystal hunting at least once, right?”

“That’s correct, Your Majesty,” Obi-wan agreed, “it’s a rite all Initiates must undertake in order to construct their lightsaber.”

“Just give us a heads’ up on when and we’ll work something out,” the Queen nodded.

“It is a blessing that you understand so much of our ways, Your Majesty,” Obi-wan voiced.

“We did our research, once we figured out where Anakin came from. As much as we could from our dimensions. We hoped it was correct enough anyways.”

“Dad and Mom have a book,” Anakin added, “I had to read it with Mister J’onn, Miss Raven, and Miss Zatanna.”

“Piece of merchandise,” explained the Queen, “supposed to be a primer for Initiates, Padawans, and Knights. Called The Jedi Path. “

Obi-wan blinked, “If I could have a copy of this book, Your Majesty. So I know some of what Anakin has been taught.”

“Sure. We can get you one.”

“We’ll go over it together,” Obi-wan told Anakin brightly, “and I think I’d like to meet your other teachers.”

Anakin bobbed his head, “I think you’re ‘posed to meet ‘em, Mister Obi-wan…” then he leaked worry and discomfort, “I don’t have to call you Master, do I, Mister?”

“No,” Obi-wan was firm and yet gentle, “not if you are uncomfortable. You may call me whatever you want as long as you do so respectfully as long as I earn that respect. Do not be afraid to talk to me; if I’m doing something you don’t understand or that makes you upset, tell me and we’ll work it out together, alright? I’m here to help you, not control or own you.”

“Okay.” Anakin seemed doubtful.

The Queen nudged him, “You talk to other adults right, Anakin? Miss Raven accidentally scared you once and you told her, so she doesn’t do it anymore right?”

“Yes!” Anakin brightened, “I get it now!”

“Good,” both adults nodded, relieved.

“C’mon, Mister Obi-wan!” Anakin exclaimed, “Lemme show you the classroom!”

Obi-wan chuckled, stood up, and followed the boy.

Chapter Text

Obi-wan talks to the Council about Anakin:

“Masters,” Obi-wan bowed.

“Knight Kenobi,” Master Koon greeted for the Council, “how have you found your student?”

“Anakin is a bright, cheerful child who soaks up all instruction given. He would have been a credit to the Order.”

“And there’s no reason to remove him from his family?” Koon asked worriedly.

“None whatsoever. I have observed him with many of his family members and found that he is wanted and, furthermore, accepted as he is,” Obi-wan raised a hand, “that is not to say there are not restrictions to his use of the Force while at home, but they are reasonable, common-sense restrictions for his safety.”

“Such as?”

“He may not use the Force to fly or assist in jumping unless his father or eldest sister, who are both flight capable themselves, are present and have been forewarned. Nor is he allowed to fly or Force-jump inside buildings unless specific requirements are met.”

Several Masters nodded; similar rules were in place in the Temple.

“Punishment, if he disobeys?” Yoda questioned next.

“Loss of privileges,” Obi-wan replied easily, “I have been given a list of punishments I may deal out and punishments I must avoid. The most common punishment seems to be loss of access to sweets and desserts. I have transcribed the punishment list onto my datapad and have sent copies to all the Council for review.”

Several Masters looked to their ‘pads and nodded.

“What of the so-called primer?” Mace asked, eyebrow raised.

“Ah. A most curious piece of writing,” Obi-wan nodded, “I have also sent copies to the Council for review. It does get some things wrong, or at least slightly incomplete, but for a book written to be fiction it works well enough for what they used it for. It is supposedly annotated by Master Yoda, myself, Master Qui-Gon, an Adult Anakin, Anakin’s future son, Luke, and…the Sith Lord Sidious, who mostly mocks our ways.”

Many Masters were reading through it already and nodding. Others were muttering lowly about the Sith having any hand in a primer for younglings, even just to mock. Especially to mock.

“They have, of course, disregarded Sidious’ writing and instead focused on building a ramshackle curriculum not unlike that of the creche. Anakin has been taught meditation and group meditation, shielding, and some telekinetic uses of the Force. They also have him in lessons for sword fighting, which we hope to use in proper lightsaber forms when the time comes.”

“Permission for the Gathering has been given?” Yoda asked.

“Yes, as long as we give them forewarning and,” Obi-wan grimaced, “we take along a few guards.”

“He is a ward of a Royal Family,” someone mused, nodding.

“His other education,” Qui-Gon finally voiced, “has it also been seen to?”

“Yes, he is in the mandatory schooling of the King’s and Queen’s home dimension,” Obi-wan nodded, “currently he is merely learning the basics but as he ages he will be allowed to, required to, diversify his lessons. I am told that, for example, in his teens he will be required to learn the basics of a foreign language.”

“His abilities—”

“His teacher has been made aware of them and there is a plan in place. He is not to show off or use the Force while in lessons unless it is an emergency of some type. His shielding is impeccable for a child his age and species so he does not cause any undue stress or subconscious influence on those around him. If he becomes overwhelmed himself, there is a quiet room he can retreat to to meditate and regain control.”

“Yes, how was he taught before his father made contact with the Order?”

“He studied under three beings. A telepath, an empath, and a witch. They attempted to recreate the creche lessons as best they could, following the primer and other fictional sources. One was once a father who taught his own children, one learned control under the auspices of an order of mystical monks, and one learned under the guidance of her own father. I have met and spoke with all three and all three are still involved in Anakin’s training for now,” Obi-wan answered honestly.

There were thoughtful nods.

“I have also met his swordsmanship teacher,” Obi-wan added, “a fellow in charge of the King’s army, known as the Fright Knight. He is an exacting, though not cruel, taskmaster that has trained all the King’s children and the King and Queen themselves. We have already begun integrating ‘saber forms into his lesson plans for Anakin. He is knowledgeable in many forms of bladed combat and his students are all a credit to his teaching methods. Even now, the Princess readies to take control of the army, as is her duty as heir apparent. Fright Knight merely held the position until the princess could be well-prepared.”

“Where does Skywalker place in the hierarchy?” Mace asked.

“As a ward of the King, he is not to assume any throne or title beyond which he himself earns. As a human, living thing, he is not within line for his father’s throne no matter what happens to his eldest sister or parents.”

Obi-wan paused, “There are already tentative plans for his removal—for his safety—to this dimension and universe should the political situation of his home become untenable. If the Council allows, in that situation I will quite happily take custody of the boy as my Padawan until he is Knighted.”

“Discuss this, the Council will,” Yoda agreed, “unorthodox, this situation is but wisdom of this plan I can see. How likely a removal will be?”

“Not for several years, if not decades if at all,” Obi-wan assured, “the Royals are young and healthy and, I’m told, fated to become fully ghost upon death. This plan is merely a precaution, one they have taken with all their wards. As of right now, the political climate is stable.”

There was more nodding and relief flowed into the Force as everyone released it and any worry they may have had about Anakin’s situation.

Chapter Text

Obi-wan and the Council Continued:

“Through his day, please take us,” Yoda said.

“First, you must understand that, on their planet, a day is roughly twenty-fours, each hour is sixty minutes,” Obi-wan began, “as a young child Anakin is supposed to sleep for eight to twelve of those hours. The day is also divided into two parts. AM, that is morning, and PM, afternoon and night. The two twelve o’clock hours divide these, as midnight and noon.”

“Understand this, we do,” Yoda nodded.

“Very well. Anakin wakes at seven am and meditates to ready himself for the day then eats his first meal of the day. At eight thirty am he is sent through a portal that deposits him, and two guards, directly outside the school building where he attends. He has the option of a second first meal at the school. From nine am to noon he is in lessons. During the noon hour is the midmeal and then a chance for the children to play. Then classes resume at one pm for two more hours before the children are released for the day.”

Several people were taking notes.

“His extracurriculars, as his parents call his lessons outside of school, alternate days. He attends school five days of the seven-day week; the first and last day of the week are for his free time, rest, and relaxation.”

“Is he given any coursework from his schooling?” Koon asked.

“At his age, very little; we all make sure he completes it before his extra lessons begin.”

“Have you met his teacher?” Mace asked.

“Not yet. The King and Queen are gathering the paperwork I need to exist legally in their home dimension. Identification and such. I will be known as Ben Noble, as my actual name is too well known. Once that’s all set, I will meet with his teacher—a Miss Woods, at this level of education—and be added as an emergency contact for young Anakin.”

“What is his schedule after school?”

“Normally he is given a couple hours to do his coursework and decompress before his next set of lessons begin. Depending on who has him that afternoon, lessons may take anywhere from an hour to three. Late-meal is at six pm and he is then given a bath or shower before he goes to bed at seven pm. Due to his use of the Force, he is allowed healthy quiet snacks during his school lessons and has a small meal when he returns home.”

“What is his play like?”

“At home, he has full run of several acres of land,” Obi-wan said, “he has several siblings close in age that play with him. As their own lives allow it, his older siblings visit from time to time. He plays as any human child does and his parents support this with toys and activities for him and his siblings.”

Obi-wan smiled, “When everyone is in attendance, a rare treat, they have what’s called ‘Free Play’. Where any and all abilities are allowed to be used. It usually ends in a giant wrestling match. Anakin holds his own quite well, using the Force to aid him as his siblings use their magic or other abilities to do the same.”

That gained some smiles; Free-for-Alls weren’t unheard of in the Temple either. It gave the younglings a chance to really work on their skills in a fun, safe way.

“Does Skywalker have a primary Healer?” was Mace’s next question.

“Yes, although Healers are known as doctors,” Obi-wan nodded, “yes, he has a pediatrician that has been informed of his origins and works for the Royal Family. I have been given access to his records and have transferred copies to Healer Che just in case. His parents are also willing to have Healer Che look him over if possible.”

“Very willing, are his parents, to bring to bear every resource,” Yoda noted.

Obi-wan chuckled, “This isn’t their first time doing something like this. Harry and Neville, two of Anakin’s brothers, attend a school for magic in their original dimension under the watch and guidance of their birthparents. The selling of their souls was accidental, you see. So, the birthparents are still involved. Not the least because they themselves are mages like the boys. I have no doubt that if it was in Anakin’s best interests, they would have given him to the Order.”

“But as of right now,” Koon finished the thought, “it is not.”

“Especially with Sidious around,” Obi-wan nodded grimly, “the Sith Lord would likely take an interest in someone with Anakin’s power.”

His grimness was matched unhappily.

Chapter Text

Obi-wan and the Council Yet Again:

Mace cleared his throat, continuing, “You report that you receive two stipends?”

Obi-wan nodded, “Yes, one is for educational materials while the other is for personal use. Room and board are provided but let’s say I desire a particularly pricey tea variant. I will pay for that tea from my personal stipend.”

“Yet, materials requested you have,” Yoda pointed out.

“Anakin is very well trained for how he was trained but he is missing some basics of the Jedi philosophy and knowledge of the Force. I am hoping that the crechemasters will be able to suggest, if not loan out, books and other materials. If I could, I would have Anakin in the creche taking lessons, however, his parents do not wish to overtax him with regards to education.”

“I’m sure something can be worked out in regard to materials,” Koon said kindly.

It made sense that a Knight would need some support with raising his or her first padawan in normal circumstances. Anakin Skywalker was not in normal circumstances.

It also spoke well to Knight Kenobi’s integrity that he was willing to ask for help when he felt he could not handle things himself.

“With Crechemaster Kire you will work,” Yoda nodded in agreement, just as kind, “available resources will be made to you and young Skywalker,” he paused, then questioned, “breaks in schooling young Skywalker gets? Here schools break for warm months?”

“Yes, Anakin does get vacations from school during the summer months,” Obi-wan nodded, “two-to-three months, a collection of days numbering either 30 or 31.”

“Perhaps he can join the creche as a—a day student,” another Master offered, “during these breaks. Depending on his education level.”

“I will offer it to the King and Queen,” Obi-wan replied, stroking his beard thoughtfully, “they might agree as long as he returns home. I will warn you, though, he cannot call anyone ‘Master’, Masters. He knows his mother was a slave and, had he not been sold, he would have been one as well until he came to the Order’s attention quite by accident. He refers to myself and his other teachers as Mister or Miss, depending on gender.

“Do we know what planet he comes from?” Mace growled.

“Most likely Tatooine,” Obi-wan answered tiredly, “his birthmother was a woman named Shmi Skywalker. There was no mention of his birthfather. Most likely he is a child of rape or else his father was ‘sold on’.”

Koon was making a note, “We can send a Guardian or Wanderer towards Tatooine. Shmi Skywalker, you say. If she’s still alive, and the Force agrees she is, we can free her. How would Anakin’s parents—”

“They would likely welcome her with open arms,” Obi-wan smiled warmly, “they apparently tried to take her as well, when the King received Anakin as a babe. However, she would not risk her implanted bomb detonating. For people who sell their children for the children’s own protection or accidentally, they’re welcomed into the family as well. Miss Skywalker sold her son into Freedom and that is a worthy reason.”

The Masters were nodding in understanding and relief.

Chapter Text

Anakin Doesn't Have A Braid:

“Technically,” Obi-wan started, “you should have a braid, as a Jedi Padawan. However, you are not technically a Padawan and a braid may gain you unwanted attention at school. So, I have a compromise—”

He held up the necklace of twine; it was shaped like a ‘y’, with a length of doubled twine hanging down the chest. On the chest piece were several beads already, each a different color.

“Each bead signifies great skill in a subject related to being a Jedi,” the Jedi continued, “as you grow and learn, we’ll add more beads. If you want to wear them.”

“Yes, Mister Obi-wan!” Anakin nodded.

Obi-wan smiled and placed the necklace around the boy’s neck, using the slip knot to tighten it to a snug but not choking fit.

The beads were all in shades of purple, indicating general studies that each Jedi would undertake as a youngling regardless of what they specialized in. Shielding, telekinetic training, beginning ‘saber form.

“We’ll change the beads as you get older and master more skills,” Obi-wan explained, before joking, “seeing you with your Legos and K’nex, I think we have an engineer on our hands here.”

“What was your braid like, Mister Obi-wan?”

“Oh, lots of green and yellow; that means I was training to be a Consular, a diplomat. Green was for the peacekeeping parts like diplomacy and such. The yellow means I mastered at least two forms of lightsaber combat.”

“Always try talking things out first,” Anakin nodded, in understanding, “then get someone else to try, then you can fight.”

“Who taught you that?”

“Dad and Mom,” Anakin shrugged, “they don’t like the idea of fighting if they really don’t have to. They told me before I was given to them they were dealing with a lot of unhappy ghosts who wanted to fight Dad. They managed to talk them down. With Grandfather Clockwork’s help.”

“Ah,” Obi-wan nodded, “well, that’s right. A Jedi is a being of Peacekeeping; but sometimes more violent methods are required. Never be afraid to fight for what’s Right and Good, when words fail.”

“Yes, Mister Obi-wan,” Anakin replied seriously, taking the lesson to heart, “what’s Engineer’s color?”

“Blues; engineering has blue.”

“Wizard.”

Chapter Text

Anakin Meets Shmi:

Eight years had not been kind to Shmi Skywalker, but she didn’t care.

Her son, her Anakin, was alive and free and she was about to meet him again. She had never thought she’d see him again, when she had given him up seconds after birth.

Knight Kenobi led her to a room within the Temple and she fought not to fidget with her new dress. It was only a medical gown but the newest thing she had ever worn.

Knight Kenobi left the doors slightly ajar even as the portal appeared and opened to reveal.

The King.

Shmi curtsied low but the King just said, “No. You don’t have to bow or curtsey or whatever. I’m just Danny to you. Hello, Miss Skywalker. I’m Danny Phantom, Anakin’s dad.”

She stood up and questioned softly, “He’s…okay?”

“He’s an absolutely healthy and happy little boy,” Danny assured, “even his power’s come in nicely. Knight Kenobi here is Anakin’s current teacher in the Force.”

“It was my own teacher that earned your freedom, Miss Skywalker,” Kenobi added, “Master—Teacher—Qui Gon Jinn insisted he be the one to retrieve you.”

“Now that you’re free and we know where you’re at,” Danny continued, “we can talk about visitation with Anakin, if you want any.”

“Yes!”

Danny chuckled, “Good, because he’s hyped to meet you. But, I will remind you, you cannot fight for custody. You sold his soul to me, that means he’s mine. It’s only because you sold him for a good reason—so he could be Free—that we’ll allow visitation at all. Get what I’m saying?”

“Yes sir,” Shmi nodded.

Part of her ached that her boy would never be hers again but most of her was just glad that he had been Free, had grown up Free and that she was allowed to see him.

“If Anakin doesn’t want visitation, we will not force him,” Danny added seriously, “right now, he wants to meet you. If he does and decides that’s it, then that’s it. We will not make him see you. Understand?”

“Yes.”

Danny smiled, nodding before turning back to the portal and stepping back in.

When he returned, he held a little boy and her heart leapt to her throat.

“Anakin,” Danny spoke softly as he set the boy down, still holding his hand, “this’s Shmi Skywalker, she’s your birthmother. Shmi, Anakin Skywalker-Phantom.”

Shmi went to her knees, “Hello, Anakin.”

Anakin gave a shy smile, “Hi, Miss Skywalker. Thank you for giving me to Dad and Mom.”

“You’re very welcome,” she replied sincerely, seeing how happy and healthy he was, “please call me Shmi, dear one. I am so happy you’re okay.”

He blinked blue eyes at her, “Why didn’t you come with me? Dad said you could?”

Shmi swallowed harshly, “I wanted to, believe me. But I was dangerous to you—”

“’Cause of your bomb?”

“Because of my bomb, yes. I—didn’t believe they could remove it safely before it went off.”

“But it’s gone now, right?” Anakin looked to Kenobi, “Doctor Che got the bomb out, right?”

“Yes,” Kenobi nodded, “the bomb is gone. We destroyed it in front of Miss Skywalker…Miss Skywalker, didn’t you have something for Anakin? Something from your culture?”

“Yes,” Shmi opened the hand that she had kept fisted to reveal a tiny piece of ivory, “it’s a Japur snippet, Anakin.”

Anakin, with a look at his father who nodded, crept closer.

“We make them so that when someone gets ‘sold on’,” Shmi explained quietly, “we can still stay with them in spirit—metaphorically, Your Majesty—” she added, for Danny who looked rather worried, “—I made this one for you, after I gave you up. So I could remember you. So I could give it to you if we ever met again.”

Anakin carefully took it and studied that; it was beautifully carved, if a bit rough.

“Thank you, Shmi,” the boy said before turning to Kenobi, “Mister Obi-wan, can I ask you something?”

Obi-wan nodded and knelt for Anakin to whisper in his ear; he smiled and nodded again, “That sounds like a wonderful idea, Anakin.”

Anakin pulled a necklace from beneath his shirt and he and Obi-wan took a bead off it and instead added the Japur snippet to the very bottom of the chest piece.

Anakin walked back over to Shmi, “I don’t have anything like that Japan—”

“Japur,” Shmi corrected softly.

“Japur,” Anakin nodded seriously, “I don’t have any Japur for you. But here, a bead from my student necklace.”

He held out the bead.

Shmi took it carefully, like the precious thing it was, “Thank you. I will treasure it always. But, why are you wearing a necklace like that?”

“If I was a real Jedi student,” Anakin explained, “I’d’ve a braid in my hair, with beads. ‘Cause I’m not a Padawan, not really, Mister Obi-wan made me a necklace for my beads. They show what I know. The colors mean different things too. I’ve just got basic purple beads right now. Mister Obi-wan said it was okay to give you a bead ‘cause it’ll mean something special to you.”

“Normally Padawans keep their braids and beads until they’re Knighted,” Kenobi further clarified, “they will never give away beads. However, Anakin’s situation is unique so I agreed.”

“Thank you, Anakin,” Shmi repeated, clutching the bead close now that she understood just how special it was.

“Here,” Kenobi pulled a small ball of twine and a pair of scissors, from his robes and cut a length.

Shmi threaded the bead onto it and then made a bracelet of it.

Danny knelt and motioned for Anakin to come to him, “So, do you want to visit Shmi more?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, then I’ll get a contract written up,” Danny looked at Shmi, explaining, “just an agreement on discipline and such, plus a primer on everything you need to know about Anakin’s health. Obi-wan can go over it with you. He had to sign something similar in order to teach him. We’ll also set up quarters in the palace for your use if you visit our side of things.”

Shmi nodded gratefully.

Chapter Text

InuYasha and Danny reunite (after the Fifty Years):

“’Yasha!” a man appeared, portal rippling behind him.

InuYasha scrambled towards, “Dad!”

The two men met in a hug, with the first saying, “Ancients. You’re awake, you’re finally awake.”

InuYasha froze, “Dad—how long—?”

“Five years on our side of things—fifty on yours. Gift from Clockwork,” his father replied.

------------------------------------------------

Danny learns about the necklace:

“A what?” the King’s voice went deadly quiet.

“He tried to kill me,” Kagome defended herself quickly.

“So you collared him, like a beast,” Danny hissed, eyes flashing and the young woman stepped back, “like a dog. What’s the command? Sit? Oh, no, you did not.”

Kagome’s guilty look, guilty at having been caught more like, was enough to tell the story.

“So what happens, huh?” Danny advanced on her, “When you say that word? When you command him like a dog that won’t come to heel?”

“He…goes face first into the ground,” she admitted in a small voice.

“And that doesn’t bother you? Literally rubbing his nose in his mistakes like an Ancients-damned dog? What if you gave him a skull fracture, brain-damage, a broken neck?”

“Dad, I tried to kill her,” InuYasha admitted his own guilt, “I thought she was—”

“At least Kikyo never collared you!” Danny exclaimed with a huff, “For all her faults with you, she never treated you like a dog. A beast maybe, but never a dog. InuYasha. And this one,” he flung a hand out to Kagome who flinched, “five minutes after she meets you, she has a collar on you—You! Higurashi Kagome! Take it off!”

“What?”

“The necklace, take it off him—Now!”

“Y—Yessir, InuYasha, I—I’m so sorry.”

He crouched down and she, with shaking hands, lifted the beads from his neck.

“Gimme them,” Danny ordered and, upon receiving them, burnt them to a crisp with ecto-fire.

Danny smiled widely, “Now, see? Isn’t this better? InuYasha, I think you owe someone an apology too.”

“I’m sorry I tried to kill you, Higurashi Kagome,” InuYasha bowed.

Chapter Text

InuYasha Snippets as while I rewatch the anime (and cringe so hard):

Within an hour, maybe two, the clearing was filled with InuYasha’s family who jostled and bustled around him, cheering and hugging.

It was a very festive atmosphere.

Kagome was regarded with suspicion.

She was introduced to everyone; they were polite at least, for westerners, but only polite.

Then another man broke through the crowd, “’Yasha!”

InuYasha lit up, “Anakin!”

The two men hugged and then punched each other’s shoulder, Anakin didn’t even flinch at the hit, then laughed and lounged against each other.

“Oh good, the twins are back together,” someone shouted, causing laughter to break out again.

“Twins?” Kagome sputtered; the two men didn’t look the least bit alike.

“They’re the same age,” InuYasha’s mother said fondly, “used to do everything they could together. So, we started calling them our twins.”

“—have your beads?” InuYasha was saying to his brother.

“I didn’t wanna take the Trials without you awake,” Anakin replied.

--------------SNIPPET----------------

“The hell are you?” InuYasha demanded of the tiny youkai.

“Lord InuYasha, I am Myoga, your father asked me to look after you.”

“Heh. Try again. Dad deals in ghosts, not youkai.”

“Not the man who raised you, My Lord! But your sire, the Great Inu no Taisho!”

InuYasha cocked his head, interested, “My bio-father, huh? So where were you when Mother and I needed help?”

“Nevermind that!” Myoga hopped around, waving his arms, “Lord InuYasha! Lord Sesshomaru is on his way! He believes you have a way to your father’s greatest weapon! Tessaiga!”

“Oh, son of a—he’s still alive then?”

“InuYasha,” Kagome murmured, “who’s Sesshomaru?”

“My asshole half-brother; hates that I even exist—bio-Dad’s other son, full inuyoukai. I don’t have the old man’s sword, flea.”

“Lord Sesshomaru believes you have more information! He will not stop until he gains Tessaiga!”

“Oh, Ancients,” the hanyou swore.

-------------SNIPPET--------------

“Stay close, Kagome,” he ordered as they landed, “we’re in a spirit realm. I don’t think it’s one Dad controls either.”

“Okay.” She nodded resolutely.

-----------------------SNIPPET-----------------

“So, this’s the old man’s sword,” InuYasha studied the weapon closely after everything was said and done.

“I don’t have much from my birthparents,” he continued a few moments later, “Dad didn’t think to take anything I didn’t have already packed, when he took me.”

“He…took you…?” Kagome questioned.

“I was…sold, Kagome,” InuYasha said bluntly, gaining a gasp, “Mother was dyin’ and it was the only way she could think of to save my life. Most youkai, here, hate hanyou. Most demons look down on the half-breeds everywhere. I was lucky Dad knew one that agreed to help teach me about my abilities. A vampire, actually.”

“A vampire trained you on how to be a youkai?”

“Well, how to track, how to use my strength in a fight, my fangs, that sorta stuff. Uncle Spike is known for killin’ several high-powered enemies. Slayer of Slayers and he’s mostly retired from being Evil with a capital ‘E’.”

“I didn’t think you could be retired from evil?”

“He fell in love with someone, decided to hang up the evil. Still plays kitten poker though.”

“Kitten…poker…”

“The kittens aren’t kept as pets.”

“Oh my gods.”

“So, when I was little I trained under him and then when my strength really came in I worked with my Uncle Clark—he has super-strength and speed. Neither one’s related to Dad, but they’re family and I call them Uncle out of respect.”

“How’re are they family then?” Kagome questioned, interested.

“I have a sister that was accidentally sold to Dad—long story but it was also for her safety—her bio-sister’s still in the picture because it was an accident—she meant to sell her own soul—Uncle Spike’s with the sister. Dad found my cousin, Connor, being abused and gave him to my Uncle Clark but keeps an eye on him.”

“Ah,” she nodded; it was a little complicated but it made sense and she was amazed again at how large and varied his family was.

He paused then continued, “When Dad took me, I only had a little pack. Some food, coins, some of Mother’s jewelry. Because if the Ghost King hadn’t arrived, I’d have gone on the lam as soon as Mother died,” he shook his head, “I would’ve been hunted like an animal, Kagome. By human and youkai alike. Dad saved me.”

“I’m sorry,” and she was.

“It is what it is,” he shrugged almost carelessly, “never met my bio-father. Died the day I was born, saving me and Mother. Dad’s the only father I’ve known. Mom is…Mom. She’s not Mother, but she’s still my mom.”

------------------SNIPPET----------------

The claws on his right hand shimmered an almost poisonous green, not unlike his brother’s whips, and he slashed the air.

He had ripped open a portal.

Working at it, he widened it enough for a person to walk through and then carried her through.

“Yasha?” his father met them.

“Wha—how?” was Kagome’s contribution.

“Hang on, Dad.”

InuYasha set the priestess down, gently gripped her by the shoulders, and explained sharply, “I’m Liminal. That means I have ectoplasm in me. Along with my youkai blood. My Iron Reaver attack can be used to open portals between the Realms. I can literally shred souls with my Soul Stealer.”

“Okay,” she nodded in understanding, a bit shakily but she nodded all the same.

“Good,” he let her go and turned back to the King, “Dad, is Anakin in the Zone?”

“No, why?”

“Kagome needs a teacher for her priestess power; I figured he can help with it.”

Danny ran a hand through his hair before nodding, “Yeah, I can see that. She’s like Kikyo then? Just untrained?”

“Yeah. I figure the Force training might be a good substitute. Kaede’s still alive but she doesn’t have the power either of them has.”

Danny nodded again and pulled his key from his pocket to open a portal and close the one InuYasha made.

“Dad?” Anakin blinked. He was stretched out on a sofa.

“Got a new student for you,” Danny said, pointing at Kagome, “apparently she’s probably just as powerful as Kikyo, just needs training and your power’s the closest.”

“Ah, lemme call Mister Obi-wan. He doesn’t have a Padawan right now and he’ll probably be a better teacher…”

Anakin got up, grabbed his comm and wandered off, already talking.

“What?” Kagome tried again.

“That’s Anakin’s original dimension,” Danny explained patiently, “he lives there now, with his fiancée. Obi-wan was his teacher. Anakin has access to what’s called the Force. Obi-wan is a Jedi Master.”

“Star Wars,” Kagome whispered, stunned.

“Yes, but as you can see, some things have changed. Anakin isn’t a Jedi, and he didn’t Fall.”

Anakin came back, looking sheepish, “So, Mister Obi-wan does have a Padawan and says I should be her teacher anyways. Lemme pack and tell Padme.”

Within a half-hour, he was stepping through the portal.

-----------------SNIPPET--------------

“Harry enchanted the tent?” Anakin asked as he entered said tent.

“Yep.”

“And Harry is…?” Kagome asked.

“One of the other not-twins twins,” Anakin replied, “he and Neville were sold by accident to Dad; born on the same day and such. Both are wizards. Harry’s an Enchanter by trade. That means he adds spells to items. Like this tent.”

He then turned to his brother, “How enchanted is—?”

“Could survive the entire family brawling in and around it,” InuYasha said seriously, “Free Play style.”

Anakin whistled lowly, impressed, then put his bag in one of the unused bedrooms before returning to the main room.

He turned to Kagome and said, “Alright, back outside. We might as well get started.”

Obediently, she followed him outside the tent and mirrored him when he folded to the ground, lotus style.

“I know you’re from a shrine family,” Anakin began, “do you know how to meditate?”

“Yes.”

“Can you meditate? Like this? Or do you prefer moving meditation?”

“I—what’s moving meditation?”

“It’s where you’re doing something as you meditate,” Anakin explained, “for example, when I was younger, I had to have something to build while I meditated. Lego, K’nex, anything I could tinker with. Mister Obi-wan had me in the Padawan engineering classes as soon as I could read Aurebesh, that’s the written form of Basic,” he added at her confused look, “but I know some people that go through lightsaber katas as meditation.”

“I can meditate while sitting still,” she confirmed.

“Okay. Then let’s meditate. I want you to look deep within and find your power. It could be like a spark or a river or anything metaphorical. Try to find it and touch it. It’s okay if you can’t your first try.”

-------------SNIPPET---------------

“This is Adrasteia,” Danny introduced the ghostly archer to Kagome, “she’s my best archer and has agreed to teach you.”

“Thank you.” Kagome bowed to Adrasteia.

Adrasteia clapped her arm over her right breast, “It is an honor to meet you, Kagome Higurashi.”

Chapter Text

Anakin Meets the Rest of the Disaster Lineage:

“Anakin, this is my own teacher, Master Qui-Gon Jinn,” Obi-wan introduced the taller man, “he’s the one that fetched Miss Skywalker.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Anakin,” Qui-Gon said sincerely.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Sir,” Anakin bowed shallowly.

“Qui-Gon’s teacher, Master Yan Dooku.”

The severe looking man nodded regally, “Student Skywalker, a pleasure.”

“Nice to meet you, Sir,” the bow was deeper this time.

“And Master Dooku’s teacher, and grandmaster of the Order itself, Master Yoda.”

“To meet you, young Skywalker, I am pleased,” the little Master nodded.

“What does grandmaster mean?” Anakin questioned Obi-wan.

“It means, if all else fails and we must choose a single leader for the Jedi,” Obi-wan explained, “then Master Yoda is that leader. Conversely, anything a Jedi does casts shadows on Master Yoda himself. Usually it doesn’t mean much, just a title of respect.”

“Oh!” Anakin bowed as deeply as he could without hitting his head or outright prostrating himself, “It’s an honor to meet you, Grandmaster Yoda. Thank you for taking the time to meet with us.”

“If anything happens to me, members of my Lineage, that is, this chain of teacher and student, will take over your instruction. If I ever do something that makes you upset or uncomfortable and you don’t think you can tell anybody else, please tell someone of our Lineage,” Obi-wan explained.

Qui-Gon stepped in, “Each Lineage is a sort of family, Anakin. I raised Obi-wan as my Padawan, I was Master Dooku’s Padawan, and Master Yoda raised Master Dooku. Obi-wan is helping raise you in a Padawan like manner. Therefore, you are a member of our Lineage, our family.”

Wide-eyed, Anakin nodded before asking, “If I was really Mister Obi-wan’s Padawan you’d be like…a grandpa or something?”

“Yes, though the correct term would be Grandmaster. That’s like Grandparent for Jedi. Master Yoda is my Lineage Grandmaster as well as Grandmaster of the Order,” Qui-Gon bent down slightly, “you, however, may refer to me as Grandfather Qui-Gon or Mister Qui-Gon. Obi-wan says you don’t like to call people ‘Master’.”

“Wizard.”

“Likewise, I am to be referred to as Great-Grandfather Yan or Mister Dooku,” Dooku added, giving the boy a small smile and slight nod of his head.

“Great-Great-Grandfather or merely Grandfather I am to you, young Anakin,” Yoda voiced with a wide, impish grin.

“Yes, Grandfather,” Anakin was just as impish.

Obi-wan just sighed.

Yoda was a venerable Jedi; an example for them all to measure up to. He was also a troll who loved pranks and games, especially with the help of younglings.

______________________________________________________________

Enter Shippo (After the Brothers die because I'm not good at fights):

“That’s it?” Shippo asked.

“That’s it,” InuYasha nodded, “you can come with us if you want to, or we’ll talk to my dad about finding you a family.”

“Ayla and Nino might take him in,” Anakin agreed, “or I will. We’ll just pass him off as an alien.”

“See,” Kagome said encouragingly, “you have options, you don’t have to be alone.”

“I—I’ll go with you, Kagome,” Shippo decided.

“Okay,” the teen nodded, “and I travel with InuYasha.”

The two men looked at each other over her head.

“Don’t say it,” InuYasha sighed at his brother’s expression, “don’t you dare—”

“When are you gonna tell everyone about the new grandkid?” Anakin asked innocently.

“Bwuh?” Kagome and Shippo goggled.

InuYasha pinched the bridge of his nose, “By staying with Kagome, you’re part of my pack. Shippo. As leader that makes you my responsibility. Dad and Mom will see you as my kid, a grandson.”

“Is—is that a bad thing?” the little fox asked.

“Nope,” Anakin said, grinning, “just a sign that ‘Yasha’s becoming an adult.”

“Says the engaged man.”

“No kids yet, you can’t say the same now can you?”

“Kriff off.”

“Such language!” Anakin mock gasped, winking at Shippo who giggled, “And in front of a child too!”

He then turned to Shippo, “Just call me Uncle Anakin, kid; welcome to the family.”

He looked back to his brother, “Shall we find a campsite then call Mom and Dad? I think I need to call Padme anyways.”

The hanyou nodded, moving to gather up Kagome and her things…and Shippo who scrambled up on a shoulder.

“Right behind you,” Anakin said, lifting the bike. He wasn’t touching it.

Shippo’s jaw dropped, “You’re no youkai, you smell human!”

Anakin winked again, “It’s called the Force, kiddo. Let’s me do all sorts of things; including keeping up with my hanyou brother.”

InuYasha took off at speed, bounding towards the nearest tree line; Anakin laughed and followed at the same pace.

“Whoa.”

Within the hour they had found a suitable campsite and set up the tent, showing Shippo around the tent and smiling at his wonder.

With everything and everyone settled, in the main room, InuYasha activated his comm.

“’Yasha?” Sam answered, looking over him worriedly, “Anakin?” she looked over the other brother as well.

“We’re fine, Mom.” InuYasha assured, “just wanted to introduce you and Dad to someone.”

“I’m here, I’m here,” Danny appeared in view, “so, somebody new huh?”

InuYasha hefted Shippo into view, “Shippo. He’s a full-blooded Kitsune, fox demon, kit. Kagome and I took him in. His parents are dead. Shippo, say hi to my parents, Danny and Sam Phantom.”

Shippo whined and hid his face in his hands shyly.

The elder Phantoms fairly cooed.

“Well,” Sam said, regaining her composure, “you obviously need to bring him for a visit. The family needs to meet him.”

“Tha—that’s it?” Shippo asked from behind his hands, “I’m family now?”

“That’s it,” Danny confirmed, “welcome to the family.”

Chapter Text

Shippo Meets the Family:

Shippo’s eyes widened as they used the portal, entering the Ghost King’s palace.

He knew his new grandparents were a King and Queen, of ghosts no less, but he had never seen a palace up close and inside.

InuYasha and Anakin strode through the palace like they owned it, Kagome trailing behind somewhat hesitantly but curiously.

Danny met them, “’Yasha, Anakin, there you are. Everyone’s waiting.”

Then he saw Shippo and grinned, “Grandson!”

Shippo was suddenly in his arms, “Hi! I’m your Grandpa Danny.”

Shippo’s nose worked, “What’re you?” he asked innocently, not quite rudely, “you smell only half-human but you also smell dead.”

Danny laughed, “I’m half-ghost, kiddo. Accident when I was a kid.”

Shippo’s jaw dropped but Danny ignored that and swept them into the ballroom where the family was gathered.

“May I have everyone’s attention,” Danny called, raising the kit over his head, “This’s Phantom Shippo, ‘Yasha’s son!”

Cheers went up but were quickly silenced by Sam, “Quiet down. He’s a fox demon; we don’t wanna deafen him.”

A rumbling of ‘sorry’ came from the crowd even as people began breaking off and walking towards the newest member of the family.

It was a whirlwind as Shippo met everyone; grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, not-really-related-but-still-family-all-the-sames.

After he had met everyone at least once, including a woman who had been described as a part-time kitsune and would have taken him in no questions asked if need and her husband, there was a feast in his honor.

“Happens every time there’s a new kid in the family,” InuYasha explained, helping load a plate with meats, “no matter who they belong to.”

“Yeah!” Danielle joined them, “we’ve had dinners for everyone, including ‘Yasha here. Our chefs are ridiculously good at cooking for a huge crowd with various dietary needs.”

Chapter Text

Danny Phantom, the Soul Piper, and the Mischievous Little Soul (or, I try to merge lore more):

Kagome gasped, realizing, “You’re a ghost!”

“Duh!”

Kagome shook her head, “What’re doing out here? You should be—”

The little girl disappeared with a rude sound.

Kagome pulled out one of the portal-balls she had been given and smashed it to the ground with all her strength.

The portal opened to the King in his study. “Miss Higurashi?”

“There’s this ghost,” Kagome explained hurriedly, “just a kid. She’s so angry I think she’s going to hurt someone eventually. Please, she needs help and she won’t listen to me.”

Danny stood up, reaching for a thermos and then a walky-talky, “Sam, this’s Danny. I’m heading for Kagome’s Japan. She has a ghost problem. Over.”

“Copy that, I’ll hold the fort, over,” Sam replied.

Danny stepped through the portal and closed it behind him.

“Tell me all you can about this ghost.”

They headed for the hospital as Kagome explained all she knew; Danny’s face darkened.

“I hate when the Soul Pipers think they have to pass judgement,” he hissed.

“You know what that thing is?”

“Technically, they work for me. Some little kids are too young, scared to pass on,” he explained, “apparently they never were supposed to pass judgment. But Pariah Dark—the previous king—twisted them. Each soul judged meant more power to him.”

They neared the hospital and found, “Mrs. Ikeda!”

“Hello, dear, what’re you doing here? Visiting hours are over.”

“It’s about Mayu.”

“Mayu?”

“Your daughter’s become a malicious spirit, Ma’am,” Danny took over, “targeting her brother. Hello, I’m the Ghost King but you can call me Phantom.”

He showed off his powers to prove his claims, before adding, as Kagome caught the older woman who nearly fainted, “I’m here to help. One of my subjects has gone rogue with their duties to your daughter, Mayu Ikeda.”

Light drew their attention up and Mrs. Ikeda took off back into the hospital with the other two on her heels, “That’s Satoru’s room!”

They found Mayu standing on the windowsill.

“Mayu?!” Mrs. Ikeda gasped.

“Stop!” Danny Commanded, using the King’s Voice, “you will Stop this at once.”

“I—I will—” Mayu fought the command as things settled, “I—will stop.”

“Good.”

“Mayu!” Mrs. Ikeda called out.

“You left me to die!” Mayu screamed, “All because of stupid Satoru!”

“I didn’t know!” Mrs. Ikeda replied, tears streaming down her cheeks, “I thought you were at the neighbors like you usually were! I swear! I would have gone back for you, baby!”

Danny floated between the two, his voice gentle but firm, “Mayu Ikeda, think back to how you died. You were hiding, weren’t you? Maybe in a closet? Maybe afraid of the fire?”

“I—I wanted to scare Mommy,” Mayu admitted distantly, eyes glazing over slightly, “if I was gone, maybe she would care then.”

“Good, good. I bet your Mommy loves you lots,” Danny floated closer to the child spirit, “did your brother start the fire? Or was it an accident?”

“It was an accident. I hung my scarf over the stove,” the girl said, still distant and glazed over, “I was so mad I didn’t listen to Mommy or Satoru.”

“Then why hurt your brother?” Kagome questioned softly.

“Because Mommy doesn’t…doesn’t miss me?” she sounded unsure though, “it’s all about…Satoru…”

“I miss you, baby,” Mrs. Ikeda cried out, “Oh, Gods! I miss you every hour of every day. Every minute!”

“But—you—Satoru—”

“I think this was just a tragic misunderstanding,” Danny said softly, as the Soul Piper appeared, eyes thankfully closed, “Mayu, do you want to say anything to your mommy?”

The little ghost began crying, “I’m sorry, Mommy! Don’t be mad! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Mrs. Ikeda cried too, “It’s alright, baby. I’m not mad, I’m not mad! I’m sorry too!”

Mayu began glowing softly.

Kagome moved toward Danny, asking, “Is she—?”

“About to Move On? Yes.”

Mayu disappeared: Satoru woke up.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

No Spiders Here (Skipped this episode because I'm an arachnophobe):

“What’s going on?” Kagome questioned, seeing Anakin sitting outside InuYasha’s room.

He leaned back, “InuYasha’s human tonight.”

“Excuse me?” she blinked.

“All hanyou turn human once a month, depending on phases of the moon when they were born,” Anakin explained, “InuYasha’s is the night of the New Moon, tonight. He’s merely human, Kagome. Vulnerable.”

She nodded resolutely and marched off, only to return with her bow and arrows and Shippo.

“If InuYasha’s human, we’re all sitting ducks,” she reasoned, taking a sentry position in the main room facing the single door to the outside, “Shippo, stay by Anakin. Protect the shards. If something happens, run away and get back to the Kaede. I’m serious. Run.”

Shippo nodded, tucking the little container into his shirt, “Got it, Kagome.”

InuYasha’s door opened and a brown eye peered out, “You’re not…disgusted?”

“Why?” Kagome wrinkled her nose in confusion, “It’s not something you can help.”

“Because I’m useless like this!” he exclaimed.

“You’re not useless,” Anakin rolled his eyes, “so you’re weaker than normal, so what? I’m here, Kagome’s here. You could go home for the night…” he softened, “it’s fine, InuYasha. Nobody’s mad or disgusted.”

The door shut.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said to Kagome, “he’s always been sensitive about losing his abilities. We think it’s because of his time with his mother. He would have had to hide his vulnerability. His Mother probably drilled it into his head, for good reasons.”

“It’s fine,” she grinned, adding, “I always get cranky during my time of the month too.”

Anakin laughed sharply at InuYasha’s cursing them out.

The hours ticked by and Kagome kept her stance, eyes blinking sleepily but bow steady.

Shippo had been allowed into InuYasha’s room to sleep and Anakin meditated.

Morning finally broke and InuYasha emerged; Kagome nodded at him, then faceplanted into the sofa, already snoring.

“What?”

Anakin stood up, stretching, “She stayed up all night to protect you, ‘Yasha. Kept he bow pretty steady.”

InuYasha blinked before going over to pull a blanket down on the sleeping Priestess.

"Silly girl."

Chapter Text

Graves Are Important and Dangerous:

InuYasha studied the ruined grave, face pensive, “Urasue you said?”

“InuYasha?”

He stood up, “Graves are sacred, Kagome. Even for ones that don’t become ghosts…and remains…my brothers have told me stories about foul rituals.”

“Then ye must go after—” Kaede began but he cut her off.

“Of course we will,” InuYasha snorted, “remains of the priestess of her power in youkai hands? Mom would kill me and she’d do it slower than what Kikyo tried.”

“…Forgive me,” Kaede said contritely, as if suddenly remembering the fiasco Fifty Years before.

“Whatever, c’mon, let’s get going before the trail gets muddled.”

He took off.

Kagome looked to Anakin, who had the same pensive expression InuYasha wore, “How bad is this?”

“Bad. There’re a number of Dark rituals even in my world that use remains,” he answered seriously, “add in the fact that it’s magical remains—Kikyo had power like you do—and it’s even worse. The fact that it’s the remains of the Shikon Jewel Priestess—”

“Someone might want the shards!” Kagome realized with a gasp.

“Probably, yes,” Anakin nodded, “Kaede, how cremated was Kikyo? Was there anything left at all?”

“Teeth and bone pieces,” the old woman answered sadly, “along with the usual ash. We burned and burned and burned her but they would not burn.”

Anakin swore, “Kagome, stay with me or InuYasha. You’re Kikyo’s reincarnation, you might be able to substitute for whatever ritual or magic’s going on.”

Kagome went pale but nodded.

__________________________________________________

InuYasha and Kikyo come to an accord:

He looked at the woman with pity and grief, “You’re not Kikyo.”

“Excuse me?”

His ears were low, almost flat, but not with anger. Grief.

“I said: you’re not Kikyo. Not really. You’re…you’re an abomination, Kikyo. A soul torn in twain, in two bodies.”

Anakin swore, “That sounds like a Horcrux, ‘Yasha.”

He nodded sadly, “I’ll avenge you, Kikyo, I swear; but I won’t bind myself to you. I won’t die with you. I didn’t kill you.”

“Very well.” The golem priestess nodded, “then our paths diverge, InuYasha. I shall only rest when the jewel is complete and Naraku is dead.”

Again, InuYasha nodded, “Okay. You wanna come with us or…?”

“I think it best I go my own way,” Kikyo said, turning away, “goodbye, InuYasha. We will meet again.”

They watched her walk away before Anakin clapped his brother on the shoulder, “So, you’re going back to therapy, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Kagome should go too—separately.”

“Was already planning for that.”

Chapter Text

The Family Can't Fix Everything (or, Enter Miroku):

Harry looked to Neville gravely, who looked back equally grave, and said quietly, “Maybe if we cast together?”

Neville nodded, “Together.”

As one they cast an overpowered Finite Incantatem on the monk.

The Wind Tunnel failed to even shrink.

“Maybe the Charmed Ones?” Neville wondered.

Within the hour the three witches had arrived and given it their best shot but still the curse remained.

“Willow?” they offered.

Again the witch was called in, preformed a ritual, and again the curse stubbornly remained intact.

“I’m calling Miss Raven.” Anakin decided and did just that.

The half-demon witch studied the curse before declaring, “This curse cannot be ended until the demon who cast it is slain.”

Miroku nodded while everyone else looked horrified and saddened, “Just as I knew; thank you all for trying to dispel the curse.”

“We’re so sorry, Miroku,” Neville said for everyone.

Chapter Text

Naraku Done Fucked Up (or, Enter Sango):
AN: Last one for awhile, I'm going on vacation.

“A demon slayer, huh?” said the Ghost King, “what strange company you keep my boys.”

“Oi! Knock it off Dad!” InuYasha shot back and the King laughed.

“I’m just playing; it’s okay, Sango, you can stand up,” Danny said kindly, “My name’s Danny Phantom. My wife, Sam, is currently out handling a situation.”

“My Lord,” Sango stayed kneeling, “we slayers have heard of the Ghost King—”

“You probably know my predecessor, the ghost named Pariah Dark,” Danny explained, “a monstrous ghost nearly on par with this Naraku demon my son’s pack hunts. I bested him in combat and sealed him away years ago. Rise, Sango. You will find no ill will here.”

“I tried to kill your children.”

“Pft,” InuYasha and Anakin said together, “maybe if we were going alone, maybe. But both of us together? No way you’d kill us.”

“But you still joined InuYasha’s pack,” Danny pointed out, “that makes you family, my dear.”

“What.” She finally looked up.

“We have a loose definition of family,” Danny shrugged, “welcome aboard, Cousin Sango.”

“My lord—”

“Danny.” He corrected simply.

“My Lord,” she said again, ignoring his sigh, “my brother. He was slain and his body used as a puppet. Can you tell me if his spirit has moved on?”

Danny hummed thoughtfully, motioning them all to follow him as he walked from the room.

He led them to a vast archive and spoke quietly to the spirit in charge; the spirit quickly brought a file.

“Let’s see, Kohaku, no last name—death by arrow—what?!” Danny exclaimed, reading the writing over and over again.

“Sango, are you sure he’s dead?”

“Yes. I saw it happen. Naraku resurrected the body—”

“And has hold of the soul!” Danny hissed.

“What?!”

“Whatever’s going on; Kohaku has a file here, which means he’s, at least technically, a ghost of some sort. But his Business is labeled Finished. That means he should have Moved On but he’s still labelled as not having Moved On. In fact, he’s labelled as having been Summoned. Which means someone called his ghost from wherever it was. His Summoner is noted as Naraku.”

“That bastard!” InuYasha snarled, “First killing Kikyo and now trapping a soul?!”

“Listen to me,” Danny spoke earnestly, “I’m not allowed to intervene in this: Clockwork says the entire timeline could go bad if I do. InuYasha, Anakin this has become a Realms’ matter. Naraku’s an enemy of the Realms.”

“Got it, Dad,” the brothers chorused together.

“And Sango, congrats. You’re going to therapy.”

“Therapy.” Everyone chanted.

Chapter Text

Miroku Meets the Phantoms:
AN: I'm back! San Diego was Lovely.

Miroku balked, pausing mid-step, “The Ghost King? The Ghost King is your father? I am going to meet the Ghost King? Lord Inu—”

“Knock it off, I ain’t no Lord,” InuYasha snorted as he and Anakin led the group through the palace, “first off, me and Anakin here are technically just wards. So we don’t get titles—”

“But you are a Lord through your biological father’s side,” Anakin sottoed.

“Shut up, Anakin. You’re not helping.”

“Who said I wanted to help?”

“Why do I put up with you?”

“Because I’m your brother and you love me?”

“Sure. Let’s go with that,” InuYasha grumbled, seeing that the comedy routine had caused to monk to relax some and catch up, before raising his voice, “Dad just likes to know who we’re running with; besides, you’re my packmate now, that makes you family.”

“Just like that?” Miroku voiced, surprised.

“Just like that,” a new voice said as a man and woman joined them.

“Mom, Dad,” Anakin said, going in for hugs; InuYasha followed suit then Shippo.

Kagome bowed deeply but quickly.

“Mom, Dad,” InuYasha spoke “this’s my new packmate, Miroku. He’s a Buddhist monk whose family line’s been cursed by Naraku. He wants revenge of course, and to end the curse. Miroku, Ghost King Danny and Ghost Queen Sam Phantom.”

Miroku bowed so deeply he nearly banged his head on the floor, “Your Majesties.”

“None of that,” Sam sighed, “we don’t require formalities for family. Hi, cousin Miroku.”

Miroku blinked, “That’s it? Your sons bring you someone and you declare them family?”

“Yep,” Danny nodded, “that’s it. We really don’t care about anything except that you are family. Also, you’re going into therapy. Welcome to the family, kid.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Enter Bill Weasley, Curse Breaker:

“Miroku,” Harry said, “this’s Bill Weasley, he’s a Curse Breaker. He’s willing to give his opinion.”

Bill smiled, “I hear you have a bloodline curse, father to son? I mainly work tombs but I’ve done cursed items before.”

Miroku nodded and held out his right hand.

Bill got to work, “The beads keep it at bay, you said, Harry? Yes, I see it now. Nasty curse, this is. Hmm…”

He poked and prodded at the covered Wind Tunnel, eventually pulling out a set of tools beyond his wand, “I’ve seen something like this in a book once.”

He was casual as he spoke.

“What did the book say?” Harry prompted.

“Origins unknown. Cursed person was eventually swallowed by it.”

“That is how my father and his father died,” Miroku nodded again.

“You said a demon did this?”

“Not a demon like Satan demons,” Harry jumped in, “youkai. That’s more like…the fae. Not necessarily good or evil.”

“I see,” Bill nodded seriously, “I’m guessing this was a bad…youkai?”

“Yes, an evil being known as Naraku,” Miroku explained, “we’ve been told that the only way to end the curse is to slay Naraku. If I do not, I shall die as my father and grandfather did. Consumed by the Wind Tunnel itself.”

Bill nodded again, “That tracks. Whatever set this curse didn’t mean for it to end…I’m sorry, Miroku. There’s nothing I can do…I can ask around the other Curse Breakers. I’ve got scans of it now so I can show it around, say it’s a favor to my brother’s friend’s brother’s friend.”

“That would be welcomed, Mister Weasley,” Miroku sighed, unsurprised at the outcome but disappointed all the same.

“Would the Healers at Saint Mungo’s help?” Harry questioned.

“Probably not,” Bill admitted, “they would likely call for a Curse Breaker.”

“Dammit. Sorry Miroku.”

“It is alright, Harry.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Tale of Midoriko (or loopholes and the Jewel):

“It’s worse than you think,” Sango said before telling them the tale of Midoriko.

Everyone wore grave expressions indeed when she finished.

“This is beyond the Realms’,” Danny admitted, “but very troubling all the same. Well, boys and girls, you complete the jewel and bring it here. We’ll toss everything we have at it.”

“Even the—” InuYasha began.

“Especially Plagg and Tikki,” Danny nodded shortly, “this’s a matter of great importance. I don’t want to think how dangerous a demon like Naraku might become with this Jewel. Let alone a ghost. If the story’s true and Midoriko’s spirit is still trying to defeat the youkai, then we might be able to work something out.”

“What can you do?” Sango questioned.

“I’m the King of ghosts, spirits, and other incorporeal undead,” Danny explained, “but it’s really not what I can do, but my children. Already you’ve met two of my sons and know they hold great power on their own. All my children are similar. I hope, that by working together, perhaps in combination with Kagome, Kikyo, and Miroku, we might be able to destroy the jewel for good.”

Miroku nodded, followed by Kagome; they would, if called upon, work their own powers for the goal. And each could see why Kikyo might be called upon as well.

To destroy the jewel without a Wish would take a great deal of power indeed.

“I can ask the Lineage for help,” Anakin spoke, “I think something like this falls under the Jedi mandate.”

Danny nodded, “Good idea. Kagome, don’t worry about the Well closing. Clockwork has made the portal permanent until you close it yourself.”

“Thank you,” she bowed.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Technically, Technically (or Kohaku, Rescued Early):

They ran through the palace, the stretcher between them; everyone else followed.

Danny and Sam appeared, “You have him?”

“Got ‘im,” InuYasha nodded, “still has the shard in his back, it’s keeping him alive.”

Both Royals swore as one, “Anakin?”

“His spirit’s still in there but it’s…muted,” Anakin supplied, “like it’s being suppressed.”

“We’ll get him to the Far Frozen,” Danny explained, “Frostbite might be able to help. Even if he can’t, we can keep Kohaku and his shard safe in the Zone until we can figure out what to do.”

“You can help him?” Sango demanded.

“One of our vassals might be able to help,” Sam explained, “might. No promises.”

Chapter Text

Naraku's Trap Failed (or Kikyo's been Naughty):

He leapt toward the undead priestess, grabbing her with an arm and shouting at Miroku, “Get ready to jump!” while his other hand reached for a portal-ball.

At the pinnacle of his jump, he smashed the ball downward; the portal ripped opened, and Anakin was already on the other side, reaching for the monk as he jumped.

The portal closed behind them all.

InuYasha laid Kikyo down, even as she drew ambient ectoplasm into her form, “Explain, now. I saw the souls, Kikyo.”

“I require the souls of young women to function,” she gasped, “I do not kill them, InuYasha, I swear it.”

“You just trap them,” he snarled.

“I do not…I should be—”

“Turns out you can run on ectoplasm,” Anakin knelt beside Kikyo, scanning her with the Force, “even now you’re strengthening.”

He looked to his brother, “Come now, pick her up and we’re take her to Frostbite. Sango’s already being treated and Miroku definitely needs treatment.”

InuYasha did as told, picking up Kikyo with an arm around her waist and they stumbled to the infirmary.

With each step, more ectoplasm swirled into her and she grew stronger.

Anakin helped Miroku, “Maybe the stabilizer Dani used all those years ago will help.”

“She doesn’t have a core to stabilize,” InuYasha shot back as servants rushed around them, “the ecto-dejecto—”

“We’ll give her several doses to carry,” Danny appeared, “it’ll keep her topped up with ecto.”

“She was stealing souls, Dad,” InuYasha said.

“She was, was she?”

“Whatever we do about that, can wait,” Sam arrived, “Sango’s not doing too good, Kagome depleted her reserves fighting alongside Anakin, and now we have Miroku and Kikyo to deal with. Frostbite’s about to have kittens over all of you.”

Everyone moved into the infirmary and the injured were laid out onto beds.

Chapter Text

The Kikyo Problem:

“So, what to do with you, Miss Kikyo,” Danny hummed.

“I do not fall under your command, Your Majesty?” Kikyo pointed out, though she sounded unsure, “I am neither ghost, spirit, nor incorporeal undead. I am very much corporeal.”

“This is true,” he allowed, “however, you were reanimated using Soul Magic, which is my jurisdiction so to speak. At least, some of it. Including the type used for your resurrection as it stands. Not only that, you were preventing souls from Moving On. You were upsetting the Balance, which is part of my job to deal with.”

“My apologies for questioning you, Your Majesty,” she replied.

He waved it off, “No worries on that.”

He drummed his fingers on the table between them, “What to do? I can’t do anything to your soul—because it’s technically not yours anymore—so that rules out a lot of punishments I could use. I could cut you off from the ectoplasm of the Zone but you’d just go back to taking souls and besides, you’re more useful undead than just plain dead at the moment so I can’t just kill you. You have no currency so I can’t fine you. Sam? Any ideas?”

“Nope. I’m drawing a blank too.”

“Anyone? Anyone have any ideas?”

Nobody spoke up; nobody had any ideas at all.

What could they do to Kikyo without harming Kagome’s soul? What could they do to the already dead? She didn’t even have a core and they needed her power against the likes of Naraku.

“We’ll have to think about it,” Danny sighed, Sam nodding in agreement, “for now you’re free to go.”

Chapter Text

Kohaku, Healed:

“And this will help him?” Sango questioned.

Frostbite shook his head wearily, “I cannot be sure, not until we have tried it, Miss Sango. But it is our last option. The Healing Pools are fickle things and must not be treated lightly. Legally, only the Royal Family may use them, though the Great One has declared you family and thus young Kohaku as well.”

“What’s the plan then?” InuYasha asked.

“We will submerge the boy in the pool; while he is submerged, Miss Kagome will collect the shard from him. At which point it will be up to fate if he survives without it.”

Frostbite reached out with his claws, paws palm up, in an unsure manner, and shrugged, “If the Pools cannot help him then he is beyond any aid we can render and it is best if we let him Move On.”

“Sango?”

She nodded, “We will try this. If it doesn’t work then I’ll let him go.”

Kohaku was transferred to a gurney and brought to a Pool of swirling green.

Gently, oh-so-gently, he was undressed and then lowered into the Pool.

Halfway in, Kagome waded to him and carefully took his shard; then he was plunged into the Pool quickly, held under as the body spasmed and fought and struggled.

Sango had to be held back from interrupting this near drowning, Anakin holding her immobile with the Force and InuYasha hugging her as an extra precaution. Miroku and Kirara barred her way to the Pool just in case she managed to escape.

Kohaku finally broke the surface, gasping and crying out, “Sango! Sister! Help me!”

He was quickly scooped up and brought to Sango who was freed; the siblings embraced, crying together.

“Oh good, it worked,” Sam appeared, resting a hand on InuYasha’s arm, “we were worried it wouldn’t.”

A Yeti brought a dry robe to wrap the young boy in and everyone moved back towards the hospital.

Sango always kept a hand on her brother, the boy grasping her skirt.

Once he was in dry, clean clothes, Kohaku was placed back into bed, staring at wonder, confusion, and a little fear at the machines around him.

“Don’t,” Sango stopped him from poking at the needle in his hand, “it’s a way to give you medicines without you swallowing them.”

“Sango,” he whispered again, “where’re we? Are those creatures youkai?”

“You’re in the Infinite Realms, kid, Anakin spoke, “we brought you here after we rescued you from Naraku. Do you remember anything?”

“I—killed everyone? I—” he began panicking, breathing speeding up and the heart monitor squealing as his heart rate rose sharply.

A Yeti appeared with a syringe and injected it through the IV port, explaining, “Something to keep him calm. It will not sedate him completely.”

Kohaku’s breathing steadied and his pulse calmed.

“You all were tricked, little slayer,” InuYasha said gently, taking a seat at the end of the bed as he too monitored the boy’s body with his enhanced senses, “an evil youkai named Naraku led the slayers into a trap and used you as his puppet. You killed nobody, you hear me?”

“But Father and—and—my scythe—”

“It wasn’t your fault. I know you don’t believe that but that’s okay. We’ve got doctors—healers—who specialize in mental wounds.”

Sango nodded resolutely, “Yes, the healers here will help you; I too see one for what I have witnessed.”

“You—you don’t blame me? I was weak and stupid and—”

“Kohaku, I’ll never blame you because it wasn’t your fault. You never should have been on the mission anyways because you were not yet fully trained.”

Kohaku flinched before admitting, “I—I don’t think I can train again, Sango. I don’t think I can ever kill again, even youkai.”

She nodded again, “That’s okay, Kohaku. I just want you healthy and happy.”

Chapter Text

The Jewel, Destroyed (because I'm not going to rehash every episode):

They all emerged from the bunkers slowly.

“Is it…gone?” someone asked.

Everyone who had worked their Will and Power and Magic to destroy the Jewel was slowly regaining consciousness.

In the middle of the mass of groaning bodies was a crater, with scorch marks, but no Jewel where it had once sat.

Clockwork appeared, “It is done. The Shikon Jewel is no more.”

Kikyo was first to collapse in relief and exhaustion and serenity; the Jewel was gone, Naraku was dead.

She turned her face towards everyone, “Thank you.”

Her body began turning to ash and bone and dust; the stolen shard of soul flying from the unstable creature and back to its’ proper owner.

Kagome collapsed as her soul became one again, InuYasha caught her.

One by one, or in small groups, people began standing up, staggering and stumbling but well enough to stand and walk. Partners collected their other halves, Lineages leaned on each other, family helped family as everyone made for the Palace.

Even the King and Princess had been exhausted by the effort; bright light kept flickering around their waists and the Queen came to escort them with the people of the Far Frozen monitoring everyone.

Once inside the ballroom turned meeting room, potions were passed around to revitalize energy for a little while longer.

But people still clumped together, on couches and chairs and the floor, resting against each other, against walls and furniture, many eyes closed.

Servants came bustling in with plates of finger foods and sandwich fixings, with jugs of water and juices and empty cups and mugs.

Anything easy to eat and drink.

(Two servants took a vase out to collect what remained of Kikyo.)

Suddenly, someone started chuckling then it spread until there was a riot of joy and relief, hugs and high-fives and manly slaps on the back going around.

The Jewel was gone; it was over.

Chapter Text

Back to the Start:

“Mom, Dad, help me,” Danny appeared, in his regalia, a baby in his arms.

Things moved fast.

Not even a half-hour later Sam was bursting through the doors of the hospital’s nursery floor, Danielle in tow, and homing in on her boyfriend, “What happened?”

Danny, now human, growled, “I was Summoned by some froot-loop. He wanted more life and gave me his grandson in return as a sacrifice to the Great and Terrible Ghost King.”

She slumped, “He was expecting Pariah?”

“I think so. Sam…he just gave me a baby as a sacrifice.” There was grief and fury in Danny’s voice, “and his…mom…she just stood there like it was normal. Told me his name, Damian, but let me take him.”

Danny shook his head, “I…I don’t know what to do, Sam. I own him now. I own someone’s soul. I…have a baby now.”

Sam shook her head, “We have a baby now, Danny. I’m not just dropping you because of this.”

“I have a little brother,” Danielle whispered, looking shellshocked.

It seemed to strike her parents at the same time, really hit them; shellshocked expressions were traded around the three.

Sam regained her composure, slightly, enough to function somewhat, and began making calls.

Within the hour every Manson and Fenton and Tucker were in the small waiting room; Sam’s parents were demanding a DNA test of the baby as proof she hadn’t been pregnant while the Fentons were already planning for the new baby. The Manson lawyers were already working on the needed paperwork.

Everyone fell silent as a doctor appeared, “Mister Phantom? I’m Doctor Adam Peterson, head of pediatrics.”

Danny stood up, “Doctor, is he alright?”

“Yes, a few weeks premature but healthy…how did you come to have him exactly?”

“He was a sacrifice to me—as well…Sam?”

Sam was already making a call, “On it.”

Danny swept a hand through his hair and continued, “You’ll have to sign NDAs but…I’m the Ghost King.”

Peterson’s eyes widened and he bowed, “Your Majesty.”

“No, none of that. The baby? Damian?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Peterson stood up, clearing his throat, “like I said, Damian is healthy for his age and I foresee no complications. His organs are fully developed and whole, his Apgar scores were nearly perfect, which’s normal for his age.”

Everyone gave a sigh of relief.

“Can—can we see him?” Sam asked.

“Of course,” Peterson nodded, “though only two at one time.”

Danny grabbed her hand and led her into the nursery.

The teens were directed to a little bassinet and Sam got her first look at her son, her boy.

He was tiny in that way babies usually were, wrapped in a blue checkered blanket and with a blue cap on his head.

“D’you want to hold him?” a nurse asked.

Mutely, she nodded and was pointed to a rocking chair; then the nurse gave her the baby, helping position her arms correctly.

Sam set a gentle rocking pace, even as she marveled at the boy.

Damian.

Damian who slowly blinked awake, revealing—

She and the nurse gasped; newborns almost always had blue eyes. But Damian, Damian had ectoplasmic green.

Green like Danny’s and Danielle’s eyes while in ghost form.

Only not glowing.

The nurse got ahold of herself, noticing Damian smacking his lips, “Would you like to try feeding him, Missus Phantom?”

“It’s still just Manson,” Sam corrected softly, “and yes, I’d like to try.”

The nurse bustled away, quickly coming back with a ready bottle.

Damian took to the bottle easily, gulping down the formula like he had been starving.

Danny frowned, “Was he fed at all?”

“Not since we’ve had him, Sir,” the nurse blinked, looking decidedly worried as she grabbed his chart, “he’s a little underweight but we assumed that’s because he’s a little premature.”

“Those—those monsters!” Sam snarled, even as Damian was still drinking desperately.

Danny put a hand on her shoulder, “Calm down, Sam. He’s okay. We’ve got him now,” his eyes flashed green briefly, “we’ve got him. And if I ever get Summoned back, I’ll go full King on them.”

Damian finished and began fussing; the nurse showed them how to burp him.

Baby settled, Danny took him and walked him to the large window into the nursery to show everyone else.

Even Jeremy and Pamela cooed at Damian.

And Danielle nearly phased through the window in her excitement and curiosity.

After that was a whirlwind of activity; the Manson lawyers appeared with reams of paperwork for everyone to sign, Sam was on the phone, Maddie Fenton beside her helping, ordering everything a baby needed times two, sending one set of items to her home and the other to FentonWorks, the DNA test was performed, coming back as negative for any genetic connection between the new mother and her son, and Danny talked to Clockwork who marshalled the Palace workers to ready the nursery and hired a ghostly nanny.

Sam ordered a third round of baby gear for the Palace.

All this happened while Damian was in a sling worn by Sam, the parent with a steady heartbeat, asleep and unaware of the chaos he had plunged two families into.

Chapter Text

What to Expect:

They decided to tell the truth about Damian and Danny and how Danny came to have custody of such a small baby so suddenly.

To say everyone was pissed was an understatement.

There were of course some bumps in the road of teen parenthood that they hadn’t considered before; they had been ready for the endless crying, the cycles of feeding, burping, changing, rocking. They had been ready for the sheer exhaustion of not getting enough sleep while taking care of a small human.

They had not considered things like the boys’ bathrooms at school not having changing tables; at first Sam took over diaper duty while at school, or in a pinch Valerie, until a day where a very exhausted Danny was just so done with everything, he went into the girls’ bathroom to change Damian himself.

Nobody made a fuss, so he just kept doing it as needed. Tucker did as well when he took his turns, not going to let his friends suffer alone.

They did not expect to basically move in together, Danny’s room crowded with a crib and inflatable mattresses.

They expected the messes; they did not expect the fact that they were too tired to do laundry, piles of clothes and rags growing in what little free space the room had until Maddie took pity and did the needed chores. The only thing the teens properly washed were the cloth diapers Sam insisted they used.

They did not expect the crying jags alongside the baby nor the occasional fights as nerves frayed with exhaustion.

And yet, they managed; they found their footing and made it work.

Things settled into a new normal and life went on.

Chapter Text

Do The Research (or, How to Sell Your Sister's Soul):

The Ghost King paused, blinking, “You’re not actually trying to sell her soul?”

“No!” Buffy shouted, “I want to sell my soul for her!”

The King blinked some more, “But the ritual sells Dawn’s soul, not yours.”

He stopped floating and poked at the ritual circle, pointing out, “You used the right runes to sell her soul, not yours.”

“I wanna sell my soul,” Buffy assured, almost desperately.

“Okay, time out,” the King made the motions needed, “why are you trying to sell me souls? What for?”

And so Buffy explained and the King listened attentively, asking questions as needed and obviously already planning an offense.

The King, Danny, clapped his hands, “Okay, so here’s how we’ll play this. I’ll accept Dawn Summers’ soul—ah, ah, ah, hear me out, Buffy—like I said, I’ll take Dawn back with me to my dimension while we all work together on this Glory situation. After the dust settles, I’ll send her back. I don’t actually want her soul. So I’ll technically own her soul but we’ll do…shared custody? If that’s okay with you?”

He thought some more, “I’ll also pay her bills; like child support.”

The Scoobies boggled.

“That’s it?” Xander finally asked, “you wanna…adopt Dawnie?”

“Yes? That’s how we treat any kids I get sold. Adopted. Ours. Dawn would be my fourth child, second daughter…although I would probably just act as her uncle in this case. Her care and keeping would still fall to me.”

“Buffy,” Anya spoke up, “take the deal. I don’t think he’s lying.”

“But—”

“Slayer,” murmured Spike, “he isn’t lying. Bloke’s bein’ honest. Take the deal, protect the Nibblet.”

“What do we tell everyone while I’m gone?” Dawn asked.

“That you went to yer wanker of a da,” Spike answered quickly, “he took ya away from Sunnyhell, finally answered his phone after yer Mum died.”

“We’ll pack some things, make it look good,” Willow added, “we’ll pack a lot of your things, like you really are moving out.”

“Everyone will be upset you’re gone,” Tara agreed softly, “so it’ll be an easy charade.”

“I do want copies of her medical records,” Danny spoke up mildly, before asking, “So, Buffy Summers, do we have a Deal?”

“Dawn?”

“If he can help with Glory—”

“If I can’t, I can find someone who can.”

“Then I’ll go with him.”

Buffy nodded, squared her shoulders and said, “Then we have a Deal.”

Danny nodded, “Well, then Dawn Summers, welcome to the family.”

Within the day things were packed and the needed files were gathered.

The Scoobies met Dawn’s new family, or, well, part of it.

Who quickly absorbed the entirety of the Scoobies into the family, very few questions asked and most of them about allergies and favorites.

Even Spike was accepted, though the King’s parents had questions for him about his biology.

Eventually, though, it was time to say goodbye and Dawn was taken through a portal.

Danny and his eldest son—who refused to give any other name than ‘Chat Noir’, or, in English, the Black Cat—stayed behind as the atmosphere shifted into something decidedly more…tactical.

Chapter Text

Glory Dies:

Chat had never killed a person.

But this wasn’t a person, was it?

A Hellgod.

A Hellgod after his newest sister.

He watched as Buffy lured Glory out, taunting her about the Key.

The trap was set.

Almost there.

Almost.

There!

“Cataclysm.”

Plagg’s dark power, pure Destruction, struck like a lightning bolt this time.

From the clear dark skies.

What was a Hellgod to the very concept of Destruction and Bad Luck? To a God older than the universe in its’ current state?

Glory’s face twisted as the bolt hit her, her only chance at reacting before she turned to ash.

Chat panted, having never channeled so much Power at once.

His transformation failed and he started to fall from his hidden perch when someone grabbed hold of his shoulder, “Gotcha, Blackie.”

It was Spike; Spike who hauled him up into a cradle carry and leapt down.

“He okay?” Buffy called, from where she was contaminating Glory’s ashes in case someone tried to resurrect her.

“Tyke’s just worn out; used a lotta magic, he did,” Spike replied, letting Chat hide his face in a shoulder to keep his identity a secret.

Lad was right not to trust them just yet.

“Take him back home,” Buffy said with a nod of understanding.

Willow and Tara were always wiped from big spells and long rituals; no doubt magic enough to kill a Hellgod would exhaust anyone, no matter what they were.

A portal interrupted them and the King stepped out, “Chat!”

He took his son into his arms, hiding his face in his cloak.

“Is she dead?” The King asked once Chat was squared away.

“If she isn’t, her body is,” Buffy said pragmatically, still messing with the evidence, “which means she can’t get the Key and use it.”

“Good. Let’s give it another week, then I’ll send Dawn back. Clockwork says Glory needed to do the ritual on a certain date anyways and we’re almost past it.”

Buffy sighed but nodded, “Okay.”

Chapter Text

A Family Worth A Damn:

Someone forced a mug of something hot into his hands with a quiet, gentle order of “Drink.”

He did as told.

Hot cocoa.

His father was Hawkmoth.

His father had sold him.

He no longer owned his own soul.

“It’s going to be okay,” said the voice, a woman. Not the King.

“How?” his English had an accent. How was anything going to be okay? His soul…some King owned his soul. The Ghost King, King of Ghosts, owned his soul.

(What would he tell his Lady? What could he tell her? That the enemy had been right under their noses? Under the same roof? Would he ever see her again?)

“How’re you feeling?” the woman asked, “my name’s Sam. Danny—the King—is my fiancé.”

“I knew Father didn’t care for me,” Adrien croaked out, looking at the woman who looked sympathetic, but not pitying, and yet furious.

“Yes…your…father…” she was taking deep breaths, before adding, “you’re going to therapy, by the way.”

“What? I am not going to die? Be enslaved?” Adrien asked, confused.

“No, no, no, no, no, no,” Sam shook her head, “we don’t kill. We adopt. Your…father sold you to us. We don’t actually want souls, so we adopt those who’re sold to us.”

“Adopt?”

“You’re family now,” the King had arrived, “Hello, Adrien. My name’s Danny. Or Phantom. Or Fenton. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Family?” Adrien repeated.

“Family. I promise.”

Over the next few months, with some aggressive therapy, Adrien came to trust and love his new family, calling the King Papa and the would-be Queen Mom or Mama.

He got his own apartment in Paris, a stipend for living expenses, and so much more freedom than while under Father’s roof; sometimes he saw the Agrestes. Sometimes.

He never interacted with them.

His former mother tried reaching out but he rebuffed her, pointing out that her husband had sold his soul and she was still with the bastard.

Adrien found life as a ward of the King was much better than as an Ageste.

Chapter Text

Damian's First Steps:

Damian’s first steps happened during the school day.

It was during lunch; his parents had set him up on a blanket beside them as they ate picnic style. He had had his lunch already.

Dash and Kwan had just finished a short, gentle game of ‘Toss the Baby’ and it was thought that Damian had been tired out.

He had not been.

His parents noticed it out of the corner of their eyes as he rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up as if to crawl then up some more onto his feet.

He teetered and tottered this way and that, swaying as he took his first step.

Danny went intangible, sinking through the earth and coming up a few feet away in front of Damian.

“That’s it, Dami,” he coached, arms open, “come to Daddy.”

Damian giggled and, teeteringly, took step after step; he fell, smacking his bottom against the ground and blinking in confusion before getting up again.

“That’s it, good job buddy,” Danny kept up a flow of encouragement before Damian fell into his arms.

“Way to go Champ!” Danny crowed, hefting his son up as the boy laughed, “Tucker, please tell me—”

“Got it,” Tucker lifted his PDA, “saved and duplicated.”

Sam was smiling, even as she put aside her food, turned to kneel, and opened her arms.

Damian toddled back to her, “Good job, Dami!”

Later that night, they showed everyone the video.

Chapter Text

Chat Noir's Situation Comes to Light:

“Chat.”

“My Lady.”

Ladybug was unamused, “You told the akuma your heart belongs to me and your soul to your father. Tell me that was a joke.”

“Why, my Lady! I would never joke about my love for you!” Chat gasped dramatically.

“CHAT! Be serious! Your soul!?”

Chat went quiet.

It started raining.

“I—wasn’t joking, Ladybug,” Chat finally spoke, “I’m adopted. Because my birthfather sold my soul to the Ghost King, my Papa. Papa owns my soul.”

She gasped, without dramatics, slipping in the rain to sit beside him, “You’re not joking, are you?”

“No,” he looked up at her, “no I am not joking.”

“Oh, Chat. How can I help?”

“What? No, no, My Lady, you misunderstand!” Chat shook his head, grinning genuinely, “I’m happy with Papa and Mama. The King and Queen. They treat me as a son, My Lady. Much better than my birthfather ever treated me. To him I was just a tool, a trophy! Papa and Mama treat me as a person. They allow me freedoms my birthfather never would have.”

“What?”

“It used to be that being Chat meant having freedom,” Chat explained, “hours without being scheduled and demanded of like I was just a…an employee. While I was Chat, I could run and laugh and play. Yeah, I had to deal with akumas but—”

“It was a small price to pay,” Ladybug nodded in understanding while her mind whirled; how had she not noticed how her kitty was being treated? She had noticed changes happening but nothing before those.

“Papa and Mama put me into therapy,” Chat added, “because Father was at the very least emotionally abusive. He never laid a hand on me,” he assured at her alarm, “but only because he would not lower himself to do so. Besides, I was marketable as long as I was unblemished. People would ask questions, you know? I was a little underweight too, when Papa and Mama made me get a physical after they accepted me. Though we think that’s because I was being Chat on a balanced diet for a normal boy. I wasn’t allowed off the diet plan, you understand.”

Ladybug put her hands over her mouth, remembering the times Chat had visited her home and had eaten like he was starving.

Being Ladybug made her ravenous, especially after using the Cure, no doubt Chat would have been the same. To think he had not been able to eat his fill.

“Papa and Mama know about Chat Noir so they make sure I eat what I need—what?”

“Your parents know—?!”

“Yes! It’s okay! Papa used to be a hero himself! In America!” he rushed to reassure her and stop her panic, “He understands all about secret identities, Ladybug! He and Mama both!”

She was taking great, gulping breaths; how, how could—they were— “Who else knows, Chat?”

“The rest of the family and Papa’s and Mama’s families, that’s all, I swear. They had to know because of circumstances.”

She was calming slowly, “Anything else?”

“I know who Hawkmoth is but I literally can’t tell you,” he said.

She froze, “What?!?”

“Hawkmoth has a geas on me,” he explained, tiredly, “I cannot tell you who he is. Papa’s trying to break the enchantment but as of right now…I can’t tell anyone. Papa knows but he’s not allowed to interfere in our timeline.”

“Well, that’s just great!”

Chapter Text

Ladybug Awake:

She blinked awake; in a hospital, she was in a hospital.

“My Lady!”

Chat was at her bedside.

She wasn’t transformed and Chat—

“You have a Halloween mask on,” he assured, reaching out and tracing something over her eyes and upper cheeks, “the doctors changed you. I didn’t see anything, My Lady.”

He gave her some water, cranking up her bed so she was sitting, and explained, “You were…almost fatally injured, My Lady. I brought you to Papa’s Realm and we used healing magic. Powerful healing magic. By Papa’s orders you were put into the Healing Pools.”

And she remembered being injured; the metal slicing through her body. She remembered casting the Cure with her last breath.

“Sir Noir?” a voice said and what could only be a Yeti, a real, live Yeti, joined them, “Ah, Ladybug, you’re awake.”

From there was a whirlwind as more Yetis, doctors apparently, came and examined her, testing her limbs and digits and reflexes. Her eyesight and hearing.

She was cleared quickly and was allowed her earrings.

“Tikki!”

“Oh, Ladybug! Don’t you do that ever again!” the Kwami scolded, beside herself with worry and fear, “If not for the King, you’d be dead!”

“I believe that’s our cue,” a man’s voice said and the King and would-be Queen entered the room.

Marinette spasmed as if to curtsy but the King shook his head, “None of that. You’re a guest. My name’s Danny Phantom, my fiancée is Sam Manson. We’re glad to see you awake.”

“Your Majesty,” she said, after more water so she wouldn’t croak like a frog, “thank you for helping me.”

“No worries,” Sam replied, “we’re happy to help. You gave us quite a scare.”

“Sorry.”

---------------------------------------------------------------

Indentities:

Chat Noir was Adrien.

Adrien Fenton, formerly Agreste.

Emancipated. Formerly a model for his Father…

“Ladybug?” Adrien repeated, clearly not the first time.

“Huh? Oh! Adrien, it’s…this’s…amazing,” and it was, “Wait, that means—your soul. King Phantom owns your—”

“Yes,” he nodded, “Papa owns me.”

“You said—your Father was—Gabriel Agreste was—that monster!” she hissed, taking the boy by surprise.

“You believe me?”

“Chat—Adrien, I’ve never known you to lie about serious things,” she said seriously, sitting up in her bed straighter, “you told me something, I believe you.”

“But Gabriel—”

“Might be a fantastic designer but obviously he’s not a good person. He might be evil, actually. He sold you like property…You’re really happy here?”

“Papa and Mama love me,” he nodded, “they treat me like a person. A normal teen and they understand me being Chat.”

Marinette nodded in relief, remembering their rooftop talk and how Adrien acted at school. He was allowed to have friends now, not those people curated by Gabriel or his assistant.

She made a decision, reaching for the cheap mask on her face.

“My Lady!” Adrien closed his eyes tight.

“It’s okay, Kitty,” she assured softly, mask off, “you can look. Come on, Kitty.”

He slowly opened his eyes, ready to close them again at a second’s notice, and gasped, “Marinette!”

“Hi, Kitty,” she smiled shyly, heart thumping as he gaped.

He fell to his knees at her bedside and grasped her hand in both of his, “My Marinette is My Lady!”

She boggled, “Your…Marinette?”

Color came to his cheeks fast, “I…uh…I mean—If you—I didn’t assume anything, did I—”

Outside the room, watching via monitor, sat three people.

“Oh, god, this’s painful,” Danny groaned, head in his hands.

“This’s karma,” Tucker hissed with satisfaction.

“We weren’t this bad,” Sam argued, fiddling with her promise ring.

“You were worse,” Tucker replied darkly, “or have you forgotten the school wide bets on you two?”

On the monitor, the two teens were stammering at each other.

Tucker settled in for Round Two of this BS.

Then they were kissing.

Chapter Text

Mawwige:

It was the event of the millennium.

The Ghost King was taking a bride.

Not just a bride but a Mortal Bride.

It’s a circus. It had to be a circus.

Because the King was to be wed.

A Queen was to be crowned.

Sam had been given to the Dead, her family going through the traditional mourning and funerary rituals.

A psychopomp escorted her. The coach a hearse drawn by four pale, skeletal horses.

Her burial shroud a ragged dress, her makeup done by a mortician.

Danny was dressed in full regalia, crown, ring, and cloak so long he had to float.

Sam was led to a special chamber where she was bathed and anointed with fragrant oils; her virginity was checked and she was questioned on everything about herself.

The tribunal of ghost women in charge of her preparation found her sufficient as a bride and the preparations continued.

Danny was in war councils up to the moment he was needed for the wedding; some of his vassals were not happy with a king that was only half-dead, regardless of his credentials.

Then Clockwork came to collect him, “It’s time.”

The church was the rundown ruins of a priory long dissolved in the mortal realm, every pew in the chapel was filled.

Some by friends, some by foes, all by ghosts.

Clockwork officiated.

Sam was the only living being involved.

Clockwork spoke at length about love and marriage and duty and then a ghost brought an iron cord to the front.

“With this chain I bind you together for eternity,” Clockwork intoned, lifting the cord in his hands, “through joy and sorrow, pain and relief, life and death. With this chain I shall bind you, speak against it or forever hold your peace.”

Nobody said a word.

Without another word, Clockwork wound the chain around Danny and Sam’s forearms, fastening them together.

Immediately, the chain started biting into both, but both bore it and let their ectoplasm and blood mingle.

So chained they were declared wed; as a deference to the fact that both were still alive in some way, they were allowed to exchange vows and rings.

In departure from tradition, as the King was allowed a harem if he so chose, Danny pledged his undying devotion to his wife and swore to take no other into his bed willingly.

He pledged that his Queen would be his equal partner, not a broodmare.

Sam returned the vow of fidelity and swore the same, though her vows held a little more weight because infidelity would lead to her death and then imprisonment for the rest of her afterlife.

They both pledged to raise their children as one and to present a united front to outsiders; to love and cherish each child born or adopted to the marriage regardless of gender or sex.

(This caused a minor scandal because even in the Realms boys were favored heirs).

It was only after vows were exchanged did they consider themselves married.

Then they signed the marriage contract.

After that was the feast before they were sealed into the King’s chambers to consummate the marriage, which they did, vigorously.

(For their human wedding, they just went to the nearest courthouse; one circus was enough thank you very much.)

Chapter Text

I Didn't Know I Was...:

Sam stared in shock at the baby she held.

The baby she had just given birth to.

Nobody, not even her, had an inkling she had been pregnant.

Around her, servants were cleaning up the debris and detritus left by the shocking turn of events.

It had been a hard, fast labor, too fast for drugs even if she had wanted any.

Too fast for her doctor to do anything but catch the baby like a football as it came out.

Not It.

He. Him.

A baby boy.

Danny was finally allowed in and he was floating like his legs wouldn’t support him.

He zeroed in on the baby, his son, he had another son.

“What?!” he exclaimed in a hushed tone, coming to her bedside.

“I didn’t know, Danny.” Was all she could say.

“I believe you,” he replied before holding out his hands for the baby.

They made the trade off with ease and Danny took his first real look at their newest son.

He had dark hair and fair skin.

Danny shifted to ghost form on a hunch and was rewarded when the baby shifted as well.

Sam let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding.

So the ghostliness could be passed down.

The Court would be happy.

“What do we name him?” Danny asked and she froze again.

Ah. Oh no.

Everyone of their children, including Danielle, had already been named when they got them. Even Anakin, who had been newly born at the time he was Wished Away.

Still, a name tugged at her, “David.”

Danny looked up then back down at the baby, nodding in agreement, “David he is.”

“Everyone’s gonna flip.”

“Yeah, they are. Well, Davy, welcome to the family.”

Chapter Text

Damian Paints:

“Whatcha doin’, squirt?” Jason asked, seeing Damian drawing Dick who was up on his silks.

“Studying Richard’s movements,” Damian replied, easily, “I am planning a portrait and have found him adequate for studies.”

“Only adequate huh?”

“He does not have wings,” Damian explained, pausing to flip to another page to reveal studies of bird wings, “thus he falls short of my needs. However, his movements are smooth and agile so I shall make do.”

Jason looked over the boy he would have called a brother, noting the charcoal smudged fingers and the sure artistic motions he made to give shape to his studies.

How he recorded Dick’s musculature and height, his range of movement and flexibility. All in black, white, and grey.

“You know, we know people with wings,” Jason said casually.

“Yes, Richard said as much,” Damian nodded, back to drawing, eyes on Dick, “however, I do not wish to bother Uncle Bruce’s colleagues.”

“I’m sure the Hawks wouldn’t mind.”

“It is alright, Jason. The limitations will be a test of my creativity.”

“If you say so. So, what’re you painting?”

“A very Catholic scene,” Damian answered seriously.

“Aren’t you Protestant? And your mother Jewish?”

“I do not subscribe to any belief, but we have many faiths in the family.”

“So why Catholic?”

“I am painting the patron saint of abandoned children and then the patron saint of adopted children. I feel that both have a place in the family regardless of faith or belief.”

Jason thought this over and then nodded, “Yeah, I can see that. You do know Bruce would have—”

“Taken me, no questions asked, yes,” Damian agreed, “Uncle Bruce has said so many times. Father and Mother feel terrible that they did not know my paternity and could have at least given Uncle a chance to raise me.”

“Yeah. Well, at least you have parents that love you and aren’t a little assassin.”

“This is true. Uncle Bruce has told me of my birth situation. I am glad I was Sold to Father and Mother.”

“So are we,” Dick called down, before landing on his feet like a cat, “we wish we could have had you but we’re just happy you’re away from the al-Ghuls.”

“What’re you guys doing?” Tim entered.

“Dami’s prepping for a painting,” Dick chirped.

“Really? I didn’t know you painted, Damian.”

Damain pinked slightly, “I dabble, Timothy.”

“Now we know that’s a fib,” Dick chided gently, pulling out his phone, opening his pictures, and handing it to Tim.

Tim who scrolled through the photos of Damian’s paintings, making genuine appreciative noises and comments before saying, “These could go up in a show, Damian. B knows some galleries that would die to have these paintings. Babs, you listening in?”

“Always,” came the electronic voice, “what’s up, Tim?”

“Can you copy Dick’s gallery to the mainframe? Please?”

“All of it or just the paintings?”

“Just the paintings.”

“Got it. Uploading now. Tim’s right, Damian. People would love your work. What’s your medium? Oils?”

“Yes,” Damian was fully blushing now, “my brother Neville does watercolors.”

“We’re not talking about Neville though,” Jason reminded gently, “seriously, Damian. This’s some show quality stuff.”

Damian went quiet, thoughtful before he nodded, “I will ask Father and Mother first, but yes I would like to show my work.”

“They’ll probably say yes,” Dick agreed, having met them.

They adored Damian and were very proud of him. No doubt if he truly wanted to do a gallery show they would let him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Chat Noir and Catwoman Meet:

The gallery was packed with everyone from Gotham’s elite to school art teachers; Damian and his paintings were the stars of the show.

Damian bore the attention remarkably well, used to the ghostly Court and their less than positive opinions on the King’s living wife and wards.

His parents and uncle Bruce stood beside him, thus deflecting any personal questions from him to them, as his cousins and older siblings mingled with the crowd.

“Bruce!” a woman with blonde hair and startling green eyes came up, classy black gown hugging every curve needing it, came walking up.

“Selina,” Bruce greeted with a genuine smile, “Damian, this’s Selina Kyle. Selina, my biological son, Damian Fenton. His mother adopted him out illegally.”

Selina knelt with a friendly though not patronizing smile, unlike some people that night, holding out her hand, “Pleasure to meet you, Damian.”

Bruce bent down and whispered, “Selina shares your older brother’s love of cats.”

Damian understood immediately and shook hands.

Selina Kyle was Catwoman.

“Your older brother hmm?” Selina nearly purred.

“Ah, yes, Adrien Fenton does so appreciate felines,” Damian said with a straight face, “though his girlfriend is rather tired of the puns during their working hours.”

Selina’s eyes widened briefly and they knew she caught the message, ‘My older brother’s a cat themed hero’

“In fact,” Sam said, spying her eldest son, “here they come now. Adrien, come meet Selina Kyle. She’s a fan of cats too.”

“Oh really? How pawsitively pawsome,” Adrien did purr.

Marinette rolled her eyes, “Forgive the puns, Miss Kyle. Especially that one.”

Selina laughed, taking in the young man; her eyes narrowed in on the pawprint shaped cufflinks and the lucky cat tie clasp. His black suit was flawlessly tailored to his body and his scarlet shirt matched his date’s red and black gown and earrings perfectly.

“My Marinette made our outfits for tonight,” Adrien explained proudly, causing said woman to blush and sigh.

“Oh, darling,” Selina narrowed in on the designer, “I absolutely must have something from you then. If you wouldn’t mind, that is.”

“We don’t live in Gotham,” Marinette warned, “we’re based in France.”

“Even better.”

The trio disappeared into the crowds with Bruce warning, “Behave, Selina!”

He got a rich laugh in return.

Bruce shook his head wearily.

Chapter Text

A little more to the gallery scene:

Danny laughed, “It’ll be fine, Bruce. Marinette can keep them under control.”

Bruce sighed but it was interrupted by Tim and Dawn, who had decided to go stag together.

Dawn bent down to her brother, saying breathlessly, “We just saw your centerpiece, Dami! It’s incredible! I could see it in a church!”

Damian flushed, pleased, “Thank you for your kind words, Dawn—”

“Oh, they’re not just kind words, Damian,” Tim shook his head, “there’s already been more than fifty bids on it even though it’s not for sale.”

“The Saints paintings?” Jason and Danielle appeared, Jason escorting the princess like the gentleman he secretly was, “Dude, it’s up to a hundred bids last time I saw. That and the painting of that Clockwork guy.”

“What of my portrait of Father and Mother?” Damian asked, interested.

“Two hundred bids,” Dick and Kor’iander arrived to the huddle, “mostly by the more…gothic people.”

Damian tried not to beam.

Everyone around him chuckled at his pleased expression but had to admit he deserved it.

“Mister Wayne! Bruce!” a familiar voice called and in came Clark, in full journalist mode.

Bruce and the Fenton-Mansons gave a small interview, mostly Damian speaking about his art and process with Clark seeming genuinely interested in it all; everyone gave quotes.

“And what about your centerpiece, Mister Fenton,” Clack asked Damian, on his knees to be eye-level with the boy, “what was the inspiration for it?”

“As is widely known, I was adopted out by my biological maternal family,” Damian explained, “in fact, all my siblings, both as a Fenton and as a Wayne, had I not been adopted myself, are adopted children. I am Uncle Bruce’s only blood child, while Mother and Father do not have any biological children themselves. Therefore, I felt, regardless of our varying faiths in the family, the patron saints of abandoned and orphaned children and of adopted children would be welcomed.”

Clark nodded.

“My inspiration for the composition was of course such paintings as the Sistine Chapel; while I am no where near the competence of Michelangelo or the other Old Masters, I hope I took after them enough to not make a fool of myself,” Damian continued.

Chapter Text

Damian and Poison Ivy:

Damian was not able to be afraid of Poison Ivy.

“Why is that, child?”

“You smell like my mother’s gardens, Doctor Ivy,” Damian replied honestly, “this greenhouse reminds me of home.”

“Ivy!” Harley cooed before kneeling and asking, “So yer mom gardens a lot?”

“Yes,” Damian nodded, looking sleepy but also alert somehow, “Samantha Fenton specializes in rare and endangered plant life. She is a self-taught botanist.”

“And, do you help her a lot?”

“I’ve been allowed in her safer greenhouses since I was a babe in her arms; I know Father worried so, Mother told me, but none of her plants would ever harm one under her care.”

“Really?” Ivy was interested.

“Yes, she is a big fan of yours, Doctor Isley, though she cannot agree with some of your actions of course. She has read every paper you have ever published and cites them in her own notes as needed.”

Damian reached out and petted a flower gently; it nearly purred.

“Mother has been called a plant-witch or green-witch,” he added, “she has some abilities with plants, shallow imitations of yours, Doctor Isley, but there all the same.”

“So, yer mom’s a metahuman?” Harley asked.

“…Yes, you could call Mother that,” Damian allowed.

“Are you a meta?” Ivy asked next.

“No, if I am it has not activated yet,” Damian explained, “as is known via the press, Mother and Father are my adoptive parents.”

“And your bio-dad is Bruce Wayne, who’s only human,” Harley agreed.

“Yes. Mother has taught me respect for all life. We are vegans by choice and try to reduce our harm of plants even then. The family respects our choices even if they do not follow the same creed.”

The door to the greenhouse opened and shut quickly, a woman stood there.

“Mother!”

The woman let down the hood of her coat, “Damian. Doctor Quinzel, Doctor Isley.”

Ivy walked closer, “So you’re his mother? The plant-witch?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call myself a plant-witch,” the other woman demurred before offering a gloved hand, “Sam Fenton-Manson; it’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Isley.”

Dumbfounded, Ivy shook hands.

“Now,” Sam said, hands on her hips, “why did you kidnap my son?”

“We need an appointment with Bruce Wayne,” Harley bounced in.

“One of his subsidiaries is logging in the rainforest aggressively,” Ivy explained.

“Is that all?” Sam asked, before pulling her cellphone and dialing a number, “Hey, Bruce. He’s fine. Talking with Ivy right now and apparently this was all a big misunderstanding? They’re worried about something WE’s doing in the Amazon and couldn’t get a hold of you. Okay.”

She handed the cellphone to Ivy, who again was at a loss for words, before turning to Damian, “Can you untangle yourself or do you need help?”

Damian, who was rather loosely bound at Harley’s request, admitted, “I do need help, Mother. My apologies.”

“Never apologize for needing help,” Sam took a breath and twisted a hand, swaying as the vines binding her son slithered away.

“Gotcha!” Harley stabilized her, “Yeah, I can see why the kid said yours aren’t like Pammy’s. You okay there? D’ya need some water or something?”

“I’m fine,” Sam assured, “just takes a lot out of me outside my gardens and greenhouses. You’re being very kind, for a villain.”

“No, no, no, Pammy and I aren’t villains anymore…we’re usually more like…anti-heroes now. We took good care of the kid, promise. Made sure he was watered and if needed we would’ve made him dinner. Vegan even.”

“Yes, Mother,” Damian agreed, “they were rather gentle during the abduction and Doctor Quinzel kept me company while Doctor Isley tended her plants. I was even allowed to use the restroom.”

“You were tied up.”

“Well, yeah,” Harley nodded before looking her dead in the eye, “d’ya know how slippery Wayne boys are? The girls will just sit there and chat ‘til the Bats come. The boys will be all over the greenhouse. Dickie’s an acrobat for godsake!”

Sam blinked before nodding in understanding.

Ivy joined them, handing back the phone, “Wayne’s looking into the logging. We’re chalking this one up to a misunderstanding. He’s not pressing charges if you won’t.”

“We won’t,” Sam promised.

Chapter Text

Clark and Conner have a Talk:

“I don’t know why he rejected you, Connor,” Clark said softly, “I can’t know why because I never would. You understand me, I will never reject you. As soon as I heard about you, I wanted you. As soon as Danny told me your situation, I was going to offer to step in. I didn’t agree to take you out of obligation or fear.”

“I’m just a clone,” Connor murmured.

“You’re a boy—or a girl, if that’s better for you—a real, sentient person. Not just some copy. I don’t expect you to be just like me, I don’t want you to be just like me. I want you to be you. Connor Kent. Not Superman’s son, but my son. Or, again, daughter, if—”

“I’m still a boy, Dad,” Connor rolled his eyes to hide his feelings.

“Then you’re my son and always will be, Connor,” Clark nodded seriously, “and I don’t care who your other donor is. You’re not him just like you’re not me or your template. Even if you ever willingly go evil, I will still love and want you.”

“Even if I like boys?”

Clark paused, “Yes…do you like boys, Connor?”

Connor’s cheeks flamed, “I…like boys, Dad. But you like girls—”

“That’s right, but remember I want you to be you. Not me. Do you like boys in general or a specific boy?”

Connor shrugged, admitting, “Tim.”

Clark smiled, laughing kindly, “Oh, Connor. I’m so sorry, you like a Bat. Okay, son. Here’s some advice on Bats, they’ll always be a few steps ahead of you. Even if they’re human, don’t count them out of much if anything. I don’t know Tim all that great, but if he’s interested then you go for him and you be a gentleman about it. Remember, you’re stronger than him so be careful about any touching, just like we’ve practiced. Feelings can make you forget that but you can’t, okay?”

“Okay, Dad,” Connor nodded seriously, obviously taking mental notes.

“You know your Uncle Bruce,” Clark continued, “he tries to be scary but he’s a big softie with kids. Be respectful but don’t let him scare you off. I know he likes to overprotect Tim in civilian life. That poor boy.”

“He won’t be mad at me, will he?” Connor asked nervously, “I mean, not about liking Tim but about liking Tim.”

“He might be a little upset,” Clark admitted, “but only because Tim’s his baby. The youngest of his brood, you understand. Just like I’m a little sad you’re growing up because you’re my baby. My son.”

Connor nodded again, cheeks still red.

Chapter Text

A Royal Birthday:

Damian’s first birthday knowing his biological father was an extravagant affair; the Waynes were invited as Royal Guests and were given a front row seat to what a royal birthday was like.

There was live music, snacks, including a multi-tier cake decorated with various paintings, a ghostly circus (that promptly welcomed Dick in), a ghostly petting zoo, and many other attractions.

The entire Phantom family, including those adopted because their family member was sold, was in attendance. It was a daunting number of people.

The Waynes were quickly absorbed into the massive family; Tim and Barbara talked tech and inventions with Tucker and the elder Fenton couple, Jason hit it off with the so-called Marauders, Dick also fell in with the Marauders but also chatted with Buffy Summers and her group, Cass found a kindred spirit with Buffy as well, Stephanie hung with Adrien and his girlfriend, and Duke found allies in sanity in Jazz Fenton, Lily Potter, and Alice Longbottom.

Alfred was speaking quietly with Clockwork.

Bruce waded his way through the organized chaos, grinning at his children, to Danny and Sam, who were taking a quiet moment with their youngest, still just a baby, Anakin.

“Enjoying the party, Bruce?” Sam asked with a grin.

“Quite a bash,” he agreed, taking a seat on a bench.

“We tend to go all out with birthdays and gotcha days,” Danny admitted, cuddling Anakin, “especially for those who were actually Sold to us.”

“I see. And the family?”

“All are always invited,” Sam assured, “we have a loose definition of family. Like you. Because you’re related to Damian and good for him, you’re family too. You, your kids, anyone you consider family.”

“Huh.”

“Oh, look, Ember’s taking the stage,” Danny pointed out mildly.

Ember was a ghostly young woman with fire for hair.

“She wanted to be a singer in life,” Sam explained, “but died in a housefire as a teen.”

Ember began singing, her sound almost rock but mostly a punky-pop.

“She used to hypnotize teens with her music,” Danny added, “caused an incident in Amity back when I was just starting out as Phantom. Now I let her be my bard if she promises not to try that again.”

“Her Obsession is music?” Bruce asked, mind working.

“With recognition for her musical talents,” Danny corrected, “or just recognition in general. Naming her the Royal Bard helps with her Obsession. Damian loves her. All the kids do. When we first got Damian, she made a CD of lullabies for us to use. Which was lucky because we ran out of the lullabies we knew so fast.”

“Do you hire all your former enemies?” Bruce questioned.

“Um,” Sam thought, “well, Skulker’s our bounty hunter now, him and Wulf. Ember’s our bard. Technus works cybersecurity with Tucker. Desiree we keep on a short leash, she’s the genie ghost, but she’s allowed reasonable wishes as long as she doesn’t twist them too badly. Everyone else’s either behaving or in Walker’s prison for crimes against humans or the Crown.”

Damian joined them, smiling wide.

In his arms, a ghost puppy was snuggled.

“And Cujo’s the family dog,” Danny finished, “Dami, enjoying the day?”

“Of course, Father,” the boy assured and Bruce noted an electric pink lion painted on his left cheek.

It was smiling too.

Then it winked at Bruce.

Bruce let it go. He knew damn well the Phantoms would never intentionally endanger a kid, let alone one of theirs. So it was likely just some safe little charm or enchantment.

“Who did the lion, Dami,” Sam asked, “I might get one too.”

“Uncle Sirius and Uncle James have started face-painting,” Damian replied, “they are quite good at it.”

“Huh,” she passed the diaper bag off to Danny, “let’s go see what they can do.”

Damian and Cujo led her away into the crowd.

“Little spells like that really don’t work on me,” Danny explained.

“Ah.”

Chapter Text

Dean Fenton Meets John Winchester:

“You. Sold. Us.” Each word a gunshot.

“Dean Win—” John tried but the look his once-son gave him was so venomous he froze.

“It’s Fenton now, Winchester,” Dean growled, feeling his teeth gain edges that weren’t there before, “you sold us and you lost any right to tell us off! You sold us for your own stupid revenge!”

“Your mother—”

“Would’ve hated you,” Dean finished, seeing the other man flinched, “you sold our souls, Winchester. To the frickin’ Ghost King! Did you even know who you were Dealing with?”

John’s silence was damning.

Dean snarled, baring his teeth, “You didn’t. It coulda been Pariah Dark for all you cared, right?”

“Dean—Dean, listen, that ghost—”

“Dad and Mom,” Dean raised his voice, “took us and loved us and raised us as their own. When Sammy turned out to have magic they got him into a magic school. They got me mechanics teachers when I showed interest in cars. They fed us, clothed us, and adore us. To them we’re sons, not burdens.”

“You were never—” John tried to deny.

“They would never sell us or reject us for anything!” Dean roared, “You, however, put your revenge first. Two sons who just lost their mother and you didn’t care about anything but ganking that demon, did you? I remember taking care of Sammy, Winchester. I remember the motel rooms and wondering if you’d come back! I was four! Four! And you left me to take care of a baby! We were both underweight when Mom and Dad got us! Malnourished! Because I was a baby trying to take care of myself and a baby! We would’ve grown up like that wouldn’t we? Me raising Sammy instead of you raising us both!”

“Dean, I couldn’t—your mom and I—I had to—that demon and Sam—”

“Keep his name outta your mouth, Winchester! No thanks to you, we grew up normally. Whatever that demon did to him, you would’ve hated. But Dad and Mom? They accepted him, helped him learn to control his magic.”

Dean bared his teeth again, “Stay out of my way, Winchester. We’re not friends and we’re definitely not family. You stay in your lane, I’ll stay in mine. And if you ever come near any of my family or my Hunts again I’ll kill you. Just ‘cause you’d Hunt my family for being themselves. Don’t bother Bobby about me either. You lost your right to info when you Sold us.”

Chapter Text

Damian's Present:

There was a child on the Watchtower.

They weren’t a Robin or another Titan. Or Superboy.

Damian Phantom was on a mission; his father’s birthday was coming up and he had the perfect present in mind.

“Phantom?” Superman found him first.

“Ah, Superman. I have a favor to ask.”

“Uh, maybe. What’s the favor, kiddo?”

Damian held up the autograph book and pen, “Father’s birthday is coming up; he is obsessed with space. He wished to be an astronaut before his death and subsequent coming into power. I was hoping to get an autograph from each alien Leaguer, perhaps with a fact or two about their home planet or planet of origins.”

Superman dropped to his knees with a grin and took the book, signing his civilian name, his Kryptonian name, and writing a couple facts about Krypton.

He then led Damian around the station to each extraterrestrial member aboard then he started calling in his own favors.

Soon Damian’s little book was full of signatures and facts and even a couple little sketches of homes and towns and city skylines.

It was more than he could have hoped for and he appreciated each and every contribution.

Then Batman appeared, looming over the boy without meaning to, “Phantom.”

“Batman,” Damian greeted back evenly.

“Why are you here?”

Damian explained again and Batman hummed.

“Do your parents know?”

“They believe I am visiting my older brother; he believes I am visiting my biological father.”

Superman paled; if the Ghost King had no true idea where his son was…

“And your biological father?” Batman loomed harder.

“He believes I am at his home, spending time with my would-be siblings,” Damian answered without fear, “though truly I used a portal-ball to arrive here.”

“A portal-ball?”

Damian pulled a marble from his pocket, “It opens a portal to whatever destination is desired, should said destination not be warded against portals. You merely smash the ball against the ground or other hard surface and then use it. It is a one use only item and the portal will only last roughly fifteen minutes. Father and Mother make sure we all carry multiple.”

Security breach too then.

Batman bent down, “Phantom, what if you had been abducted? Nobody would have known where you were at, would they?”

Damian’s eyes went with his miscalculations, “No sir.”

“Can you tell us who your biological father is?” Superman questioned gently.

“Bruce Wayne, Gotham City,” Damian replied in a small voice.

“I’ll return him,” Batman rumbled, hand on the boy’s shoulder and standing.

“Of course, Batman,” Superman nodded.

“Come, Phantom,” was the order, “we’ll speak with Wayne about this.”

“Yes sir,” came the morose agreement as they headed for the Zeta tubes.

They Zetad to the Batcave and Bruce whirled on Damian, “That was very dangerous and I’m…hurt you would lie to me like this. We will be speaking to your parents.”

“Yes, Uncle Bruce.”

Chapter Text

Talia, Redeemed?:

It was a dark and stormy day when Bruce opened the doors to the Manor to find a soaking wet, disheveled, half-crazed looking Talia al-Ghul.

“Where is he?” she demanded hoarsely, breathlessly, not at all like her usual sensual composure, “Bruce, where is our son?”

He ushered her in, hissing, “Thanks to Ra’s, we don’t have a son. What I have is a nephew who just so happens to be my direct descendant.”

“I saw him, Bruce,” she hissed back, desperate, “he is beautiful; I saw him. He is alive. Father—”

“Ra’s sold your son,” Bruce roared, more Batman than Bruce, the man who stood amongst godlike beings as an equal, “and you let him. Thank God his parents love him, thank God he lives! Do not touch me!”

Talia had reached out but Bruce slapped her hand down, eyes alight with fury.

They stared at each other, a stalemate, before Talia spoke quietly, “Bruce, you know my father—Damian would have been killed—”

“And you sold him.” Bruce repeated, “You could have brought him to me, Talia. I would’ve forgiven you for the lies. I would’ve sheltered you both. You didn’t even know what fate you were selling him to, did you? His father—the man who raised him—was a teenager, Talia, but he and his friends raised our son with love and care. It’s by their kindness I get to know Damian, the boy I should have raised.”

“The Ghost King…still has him?!” Talia shrieked, “How dare you leave him with that creature!?”

Bruce snorted, “I left him with his family, Talia! I am not ripping him away from his loving family! Even if I could! I can’t because the King. Owns. Him!”

He calmed himself, “If you swear to have nothing more to do with Ra’s or the League, they might let you meet him. But you are not his mother, Talia. You are not his mother; I am not his father.”

“I—”

“He has a mother, Talia. Sam Phantom is his mother and has been since he was two days old.”

“Phantom—the King has a wife?!”

“His girlfriend when they first received Damian, yes. She is his mother, Talia.”

Talia went very quiet before saying, “Yes, alright. I repudiate my father and the League of Assassins.”

“Very well. Alfred.”

The butler stepped from the shadows, “Yes, Master Bruce?”

“Set her up in a room; I’ll call the Phantoms.”

“Very good sir; Miss al-Ghul, if you’d follow me.”

Chapter Text

Talia, Redeemed? Continued:

“What do you want?!” she screamed at their impassive faces, “Do you want to hear how I wasn’t allowed to feed my son? Or even hold him? How he was deemed a failure seconds after birth, having barely taken his first breath? How I wasn’t allowed to mourn my child, even speak his name for years?”

The choker around her throat remained inert; she was telling the truth.

She began crying, “Then I saw him! My child alive and well with his father! I thought—I thought he had been saved!”

“Damian is my son, thank you very much,” the King growled, “your father gave him to me. And instead of killing him or enslaving him or Ancients only know what else my predecessor would have done, we adopted him as our own. Bruce is an uncle only.”

“As if Damian ever needs saving from us,” the Queen added, “though, from what we know of your League, the same can’t be said of you. Why should we trust you with him?”

“I am his—”

“Birthmother, egg donor,” the Queen was firm, “I was the one who raised him, loved him as a mother should. I changed his diapers, I made his bottles, I stayed up all night with him and still went to school the next day. We’re thankful for you having him but you’re nothing but his source. So, why?”

Talia gaped, unseemly, before saying in a very small voice, “Please. I wanted him. My Father—but that’s no excuse. I should have taken Damian and ran; I should have told Bruce.”

“Yes, you should have,” the Queen nodded, once again impassive.

The King stood, “Listen well, Talia al-Ghul; we will ask Damian if he wants to meet you. Only after you have undergone some intensive therapy to make sure you’re not going to do him damage. Furthermore, it will always be Damian’s choice to meet with you. We will not force him if he decides not to. If you do him any harm accidentally, we will deny access. If you harm him intentionally, your life is forfeited to our whims. Do you understand these terms and agree?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Talia swallowed dryly; the choker remained inert.

“When you’re in our Realms,” added the Queen, “you will wear that choker, do you understand and agree?”

“Yes. Your Majesty.”

“Okay. Batman, take her back to the mortal world and we’ll be in contact with details of this arrangement.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. Come, Talia.”

Talia let herself be led away.

Chapter Text

Talia, Redeemed? Continued Again:

“They love him,” she whispered hoarsely, over a hot mug of tea.

“They do,” he agreed simply.

“What am I doing?” she asked herself, “He’s happy, he’s healthy…what right do I have to him?”

“None,” he rumbled, “but, if you’re honest and willing to work on yourself you can be in his life.”

She looked up at him and asked, “Tell me about him? Please?”

And so Bruce did, extolling Damian’s virtues but not hiding his flaws either. He told her what he himself had been told about Damian’s early childhood, how his parents gave up much of their late childhood to raise him. How the King and Queen were willing to kill for him, for all their children.

He shared the pictures he had of Damian’s artwork and explained what he knew of them each; even pictures of Damian with his Fenton siblings.

Talia sat and listened appreciatively, soaking up the information about her child—no, not her child, not anymore.

She would have to get used to that.

Damian wasn’t hers, hadn’t been for a long time, and she was not going to disrupt his life by making the claim he was.

He would be her beloved nephew.

She could content herself with that.

She had to.

Chapter Text

Happy Birthday Harry and Neville:

“Danny, Sam,” Lily greeted happily as they stepped through the portal, “and you brought Anakin. How’s he doing?”

“I have not missed the newborn stage,” the couple said as one.

Danny was carrying their youngest in a wrap around his body, a pouch on his chest with the baby settled in it happily.

The two adults were visibly tired but in good spirits. Hah, spirits.

Lily nodded in commiseration; she remembered when Harry was that young.

“Well, why don’t you take a seat and rest,” Lily said, moving forward and scooping up Anakin.

Her wand in her off-hand, she conjured a small floating bassinet and settled Anakin into it, explaining, “The boys are out with the men and Alice, the party doesn’t start for a few more hours. I can watch Anakin. Just take a quick doze.”

The couple sighed in relief and nodded, collapsing on a sofa and out cold almost as fast.

Lily chuckled lowly, conjured a blanket over them, before turning back to the baby, “Been keeping them up, have you?”

Anakin gurgled happily.

Several hours later, Harry and Neville came thundering in, only to be shushed.

Lily pointed out the sleeping pair but it was already too late; they were blinking awake.

“Happy birthday, boys,” Sam yawned, stretching before opening her arms for a hug; the two boys flew into the hug happily.

“Aunt Sam, Uncle Danny!” they said together, going from one set of arms to the other.

“Happy birthday,” Danny greeted as well.

Within the hour the party began; Danny and Sam were known entities to the wizards and witches at the party.

Danny as Lily’s American squib cousin who had taken the boys during the Voldemort War, Sam his wonderful muggle wife who had agreed to take in two magical toddlers.

Anakin was cooed over by everyone, being explained as an also magical baby they adopted.

“Neville!” Augusta Longbottom snapped at her grandson, “That is not the sort of behavior expected of a Longbottom.”

The boy had been just playing with Harry, the Weasley boys, Susan Bones, and Hannah Abbott.

“Mother,” Frank sighed, “he’s a kid, let him play.”

“He’s the Longbottom heir,” Augusta sniffed.

“He’s a kid,” Sam repeated, “Neville, sweetheart, play however you want as long as it’s safe.”

“Yes, Aunt Sam.”

“In fact, Danny, take Anakin,” she handed off the baby and then added, “I’m gonna go play with the kids.”

“I’ll join you guys,” James nodded before grinning, turning into Prongs, and playfully charging his in-law.

Sam squealed, dodging the stag and that set off the kids; Sirius joined in, turning to his animagus form as well.

Augusta harrumphed in disgust as her own son joined the free-for-all, “Shouldn’t you be controlling your wife, Mister Fenton?”

Danny smiled beatifically, “Nobody controls Sam, even if I wanted to. I won’t even try either, because she’s her own person and I love her for it.”

Augusta gave him a dirty look; Danny ignored her.

Once everyone was tuckered out, good and filthy, a quick cleaning spell was applied to each.

Then cake was had and presents were given.

Not even Augusta Longbottom could disapprove of the Fentons’ gifts to Neville; a set of watercolor tubes, brushes, and a watercolor sketchbook.

(Harry got a couple books on warding and enchantments).

The party wound down after that.

(It would be matched by a royal party the next day, in the Realms.)

Chapter Text

Damian Meets Talia:

Damian was magnificent.

He was all Talia could ever hope for.

Even as he coolly observed her, distaste and distrust coloring every one of his features. Even as he hung off the arm of his mother.

“Miss al-Ghul,” he greeted curtly.

“Damian,” Talia whispered back, greedy gratefulness filling her; her—not hers.

Nephew. He was just her nephew now.

But, oh, he was beautiful, a perfect blend of her and her Beloved. Their son lived and she was grateful.

He had not yet been broken by life, far from her father’s reaching claws.

She collapsed to her knees; he was alive.

By some miracle, he was alive and well and loved.

“Miss al-Ghul,” he spoke again, concern coloring his voice now, “are you alright?”

“Yes,” she assured him, smiling as tears poured down her cheeks at the sight of him, “I am just…glad to see you so healthy.”

“You sold me,” Damian reminded sharply.

“No, my father did. Ra’s al-Ghul is not someone you can say no to, not without severe repercussions. He does not suffer weakness either, especially in his own bloodline. I wanted you, Damian. My child, I wanted you despite your weakness. But Father would not abide by it. He made me starve you in preparation for his ritual; I was not allowed to bond or rest from childbirth.”

Her choker remained inert so she was telling the truth as she knew it.

“When the—when your father appeared, I was not allowed to dissent. I was reprimanded severely for naming you. Especially after such an honored ancestor as I did. Father—” she flinched, “he did not give me time to heal, after the birth, and punished me for any weakness I displayed. I loved you, Damian, as much as I could, as much as was allowed. But I was—am afraid of my Father. His wrath is terrible and you were—if I had run and we were captured still—”

“He would have killed me,” Damian realized.

“No, my boy,” she shook her head, “death would have been too merciful for you, for me. I would have been made to watch as he tortured you. My baby. He would have no compunctions about hurting a babe so. I should have attempted it; I should have contacted Bruce. And I am so, so glad you are alive and well.”

Talia looked to the Queen, “I will not try to usurp your claim, Your Majesty. Bruce told me what you did. You are his mother, not me. I shall be his aunt—like Bruce is his uncle, if I am allowed.”

The Queen nodded, “Glad to know you see sense. It’s up to Damian what you’re to him. Like we said, we’re not gonna force meetings—”

“Mother, I would like to know Miss al-Ghul.”

“Okay, sweetheart.”

And Talia’s heart soared.

Chapter Text

Clockwork Borrows Danielle:

“You can’t just borrow the crown princess, Clockwork,” Danny said tiredly, coming down from the adrenaline high of finding his eldest missing.

“My apologies, My King, My Queen,” said the time ghost, “but an unadvisable aberration to a timeline was about to occur. Princess Danielle was the only one I could send. My King was busy and My Queen is too human. As are all your wards.”

“What’s she doing?” Sam questioned.

“In a dimension I once incarnated in,” Clockwork began, “one of my descendants is about to lose his greatest protector and soulmate to an event they are trying to resolve. She would complete her part of the task but slip and fall into yet another dimension, forever separated unless those dimensions and all of Reality is threatened.”

“And you sent Dani?”

“Yes. Her ghostly abilities are a boon in this situation. And should she fail no physical harm will be done.”

“Next time,” Danny spoke, command in his voice, “get me. Or warn someone. We thought she had been kidnapped, Clockwork.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. My apologies, again.”

A portal opened and Danielle flew out, grinning widely, “Done. They’re safe, Clockwork.”

“Thank you, Princess Danielle.”

“Hi, Dad, hi, Mom,” she greeted happily, looking slightly windswept.

“Hi honey, having fun?” Sam replied.

“Loads. It was awesome! Even had aliens, Dad! I mean, bad aliens but still.”

Clockwork coughed, “Are you ready for your next mission, Your Highness?”

“Yep. Where’re I am going this time?”

“You will be returning to that dimension; however, it will be further along the timeline. The pair you helped will have a clone daughter between them, much like your parents and you, however she will be killed without intervention.”

Danielle became serious, “Got it; can you tell me what kills her?”

“Her commanding officer will be aiming for her father, she will take the bullet quite literally. Her mother’s powers are not quite advanced enough to stop it or heal the damage.”

“Okay, so I’m just going to get shot,” Danielle sighed in resignation.

“WHAT?!”

“She will be fine,” Clockwork waved and opened a portal.

Danielle jumped through with ease.

“CLOCKWORK!”

“Yes?” he said mildly.

“You—she—shot?” Danny sputtered.

“She will be fine,” he repeated.

Another portal opened and Danielle popped back out; she was still sluggishly bleeding ectoplasm.

“And, done,” she winced, hand over the bullet wound in her shoulder.

Predictably, her parents panicked but she waved them off, “There was a woman there, an actual doctor used to helping aliens as well as humans, she got the bullet out for me. I’m already healing guys.”

“You. Were. Shot.” Her mother ground out.

“I’m fine.” She repeated, “though really tired. Are we done, Clockwork?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Yes. Anything else can wait.”

“Cool. I’m going to bed.”

Chapter Text

Sold! To the Ghost King for Protection!

“Lemme grab my fiancée,” the King decided, stepping back into portal and returning with a young woman his apparent age.

She too looked exhausted and slightly irritated but professional.

“Hey, I’m Sam,” she crossed out of the summoning circle, proving that she was at least human, “so Danny explained what’s going on here. You really don’t want to sell your sons’ souls?”

The Potters and the Longbottoms shook their heads.

“No,” Lily Potter choked out, cuddling her son, Alice Longbottom doing the same thing with hers, “we wanted to sell ours.”

“Mr. Potter, go make yourself useful and make us some hot cocoa,” Sam ordered as she folded down onto the floor lotus style, “we’ll talk about our options here once everyone has a cup of something warm.”

James Potter scurried off to the kitchen, then poked his head back, “And one for His Majesty?”

“Ooh, yes please,” Danny nodded from where he floated, also lotus style.

James nodded and went to work.

Sam held open her arms, asking Lily, “May I?”

Hesitantly, Lily handed her son over; the little boy went easily and Sam held him with what spoke to experience.

“Hello, Harry,” Sam murmured, brushing his bangs from his forehead.

“How do you know this name?” James asked, coming back with a platter of steaming mugs. He handed them out with a wave of his wand.

Sam nodded, “Where we’re from there’s this book series, focusing on one of the boys, won’t tell you which one. There’s a prophecy? About either boy being Voldemort’s downfall. Depends on who gets marked as his equal.”

The Potters and Longbottoms stared, horrified that their greatest secret was out.

“I don’t remember it all,” Danny picked up the thread, “something about the chosen one being born as the seventh month ‘dies’ and how he’ll be marked somehow as Voldemort’s equal and neither can live while the other survives. Apparently two boys fit the prophecy: Harry James Potter and Neville Franklin Longbottom.”

“Won’t say much more,” Sam continued, “except both sets of parents are taken out of the picture. Harry will grow up with the Dursleys—Sirius was framed and in prison—and Neville under his grandmother’s thumb.”

“Thankfully,” Danny smile, up until then a friendly thing, turned cruel, “if Voldie follows the books, he’s already landed himself in my jurisdiction.”

He explained the Horcrux situation, to increasingly sickened witches and wizards.

“Merlin,” Frank Longbottom swore.

“So, here’re your options,” Sam said cheerfully, “we can call the summoning a dud and the contract null, pretend this never happened. Or, you can give the boys’ souls to us and we’ll take them back with us then use our knowledge to destroy as many of the Horcruxes as possible. I mean, we’d probably go after the Horcruxes anyways but this way we can keep the kiddos safe.”

The Potters and the Longbottoms debated their options before agreeing to sell the boys’ souls.

The next few hours were a whirlwind of packing and gathering paperwork.

Then Danny and Sam each took a boy and went back to the Realms.

From there, a full on Search and Recovery mission was planned.

Chapter Text

Second Task (GoF) Goes Differently:

“Stop!” Harry commanded, causing the three other champions to pause.

“They took our friends, our siblings,” he began, “we should work together to get them back. Accio tracker device!”

The little thing flew to his hand and he started it, adding, “After the third kidnapping attempt, Uncle Danny put trackers—muggle devices to help find someone—in us.”

“You can find Neville,” Cedric breathed out.

“I can find Neville—and hopefully the others. Hopefully they’re clustered together. Got him. Middle of the lake. Can someone transfigure a boat?”

“I vill,” Krum nodded, breaking off a piece of the platform and turning it into a boat big enough for the four champions and oars.

They each boarded and Cedric and Krum rowed them out to the middle of the lake while Fleur applied bubblehead charms to everyone.

“Okay, so are we all agreed?” Cedric asked as they weighed anchor, “we bring them up to the boat? Forget the shore?”

Everyone agreed; one after another they all plunged down into the water and swam together to the merpeople’s village.

The hostages were thankfully clumped together; still working together, the Champions freed the hostages and got them back to the boat.

Each hostage woke upon hitting air.

Except for Fleur’s sister; she wasn’t breathing.

“Ancients! Neville!”

“On it.”

Working together, the brothers started CPR on the little girl; Cedric held back Fleur from climbing into the boat.

“They are molesting her!” Fleur shouted.

It did look that way to the untrained eye, what with Neville performing the so called kiss of life and Harry pumping his hands into the little girl’s chest.

“It’s a muggle technique, they’re trying to get her breathing,” Cedric explained before calling, “Viktor! We need to get them to Pomfrey!”

As one, the three older champions began pushing the boat, helped along by Cho Chang, Cedric’s hostage, and Hermione, Krum’s.

Pomfrey was waiting for them and thankfully the brothers got Gabrielle breathing again right before they handed her over to the nurse.

Fleur grabbed them both up, kissing a cheek each and babbling in French, “You saved my sister! Thank you, thank you so much.”

“Happy to help, really,” Neville answered for the both of them in perfect French, before adding with a chuckle, “guess we know why Grandfather Clockwork told us to get certified, eh?”

Chapter Text

Adrien Dies Warm in his Bed:

A/N: Computer Troubles but I'm back!

In the end, Adrien was the first of the children to die.

In his mid-seventies, having wielded Destruction most of his life, his body just gave out while he was asleep.

Marinette found him.

She took Plagg’s ring before calling the authorities.

Procedure was followed but the coroner was able and willing to deem it age-related.

Once the body was taken away and their children informed, Marinette stepped into the Realms.

Where Adrien was waiting.

Looking not a day over twenty-five.

He was waiting with his parents, who looked both grief stricken but relieved.

Their son was dead.

Their son was a ghost.

He was crying as he cradled his still living wife, “My Lady, I am so sorry.”

“It was your time to go, Kitty,” she sniffled back, trying not to outright sob.

There was no reason to cry, was there? He was still with her.

Slowly, with help from Danny, the Fenton-Chengs and descendants trickled in.

Emotions ran high.

Because Adrien was dead but he was still there, with them.

It was almost a paradox; how do you grieve someone still there? He was still there. Their father, grandfather, even great-grandfather.

Per his wishes, Adrien’s corpse was cremated and his ashes given to his parents for safekeeping (as everyone remembered what happened to Kikyo’s ashes).

The family held a small memorial in both the living world and the Realms.

A month later, every news organization in France reported the death of Chat Noir.

France, though Paris especially, entered a period of mourning and there was an outpouring of support for the still mysterious Ladybug and their hidden family.

Chat Noir’s memorial was attended by thousands, watched by millions, including Le Fantome, standing in for their parents as they dealt with other related matters.

“Chat became a ghost,” she explained to the reporters, “so they’re trying to help him adjust. Right now, he’s too weak to leave the Realms where our parents rule. Ladybug and family have met with him.”

Ayla muscled her way to the front, “Ayla Ceasaire, Ladyblog News, he’s okay though? As a ghost?”

“As okay as he can be,” Le Fantome nodded, “it’s a big adjustment, or so I’m told. I was born dead; I’m only aging because I want to.”

Ayla nodded in understanding, “So you wouldn’t know.”

“Nope.” she looked over the memorial, “We’re still grieving his mortal life though. There’s some things only a mortal can really do. I’m told food that’s not ectoplasm based is to die for. Like chocolate.”

The reporters were hanging on her every word.

“But, today’s about my brother’s life,” Le Fantome declared, “not his afterlife.”

“One more question!” someone called out, “Does everyone become a ghost?”

“No. It’s only because Dad owns Chat’s soul that he became a ghost. All my siblings are slated to become ghosts for the same reason.”

Chapter Text

Playgroups and Karens

“Welcome!” the leader said, “I’m Nancy. And you are?”

It was polite of her; because everyone knew who they were.

“I’m Danny, she’s Sam, and this,” he motioned to Damian, “is Damian. We’re here for the playgroup?”

Nanny nodded and pointed out a little girl already playing on the little playground, “That’s my daughter, Liz. Welcome to the playgroup, Danny, Sam, and Damian of course.”

Danny set his boy down and Damian made a beeline for the foam ball pit; another little boy joined him.

Danny and Sam, too, were quickly welcomed into the parent group, despite being easily the youngest there.

The other parents took them under their wings, sharing tips and tricks for managing a toddler and life in general. Danny and Sam soaked all of it up, glad to make parent friends.

It wasn’t all sunshine and roses though; a parent, a mother named Selma, disapproved of teen parents of any sort, heroes or not and made her opinions known by her attitude.

Her son, Theodore, was not allowed to play with Damian and Selma herself spoke to Danny and Sam patronizingly, making jabs at their ages and lack of knowledge.

However, the other parents rallied around the teens, calling Selma out.

Danny and Sam, for their parts, remained polite and respectful and didn’t single Theodore out as Selma did Damian but protecting their son all the same.

The only time they raised their voices to Selma was when she took Damian to take unfairly.

Parents weren’t allowed to punish other children without just cause.

But Selma watched Damian like a hawk for any infraction.

She would try to swoop down on him, loudly declaring whatever he did as ‘Bad’ until another parent interceded and fended her off.

She would then accuse Danny and Sam of spoiling Damian and not understanding proper discipline.

They did in fact understand discipline but refused to be the type of parent Selma was, forever criticizing their child.

In fact, the teen parents, and Uncle Tucker, were followers of so called gentle parenting. They refused to use physical punishment and tried not to even raise their voices at Damian (or Danielle for that matter).

Selma, however, was a hover-parent, forever helicoptering poor Theodore.

The other parents explained to Sam and Danny that she had always been like that, she had been even worse with her older daughter, Nora.

Danny,” Sam declared after a particularly charged encounter with Selma, “if I ever start acting like her, commit me!”

“Yes, Dear.”

Chapter Text

New Moons and Problems:

“Hanyou turn human once a month,” InuYasha mumbled, “my night is when the moon goes dark.”

“Oh, ‘Yasha,” Sam murmured sadly, “can I come in?”

Hesitantly, the boy nodded and the Queen crawled into the closet, closing the doors behind her.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” she asked into the darkness.

A beat.

Two.

Then, “Mother said to never tell anyone when my ears go away. When my nose doesn’t work right…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sam replied, “your mom was a smart woman, ‘Yasha, and you don’t trust us yet. That’s okay. But we won’t hurt you no matter what…Is there anything you need?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

And so she sat with him for the rest of the night before tucking him in then telling Danny of the new development.

The next new moon they were ready; extra blankets and pillows had been left in InuYasha’s room for him to hide with.

The next one after that, they managed to get him to stay in his room proper; the door had to be locked and someone had to be guarding it but he did stay out of his closet.

The third new moon, he actually allowed his brother in; Anakin was determined to help and so insisted that it was a sleepover.

Obi-wan stayed by the door as guard but Anakin was able to get InuYasha to play boardgames and videogames. Anakin, like the rest of the family, didn’t care that the hanyou was suddenly very human.

So it became a tradition to have sleepovers on the new moon nights, mainly Anakin and InuYasha but occasionally other siblings would join in, until InuYasha felt comfortable enough to venture out of his room as a human.

(Everyone with even the littlest knowledge of anything Demonic was baffled; none of them had ever come across a demon, even a half-demon, that would turn just human for any length of time. It was something entirely new and Danny and Sam wondered if it was just demons—youkai, youkai was the term apparently—from InuYasha’s home dimension or something that was unique to the boy. They’d get their answers years later when InuYasha made a friend of a demon slayer from his home dimension).

Chapter Text

Enter Jonathan Kent:

“Clark,” the King said, “I’m really very sorry to do this to—”

“What is it?” Clark asked.

“We found another clone of yours,” Danny said apologetically, “from the same dimension as Connor. We got him, he’s physically younger than Connor was. That Superman still wants the clones destroyed. Will you please—”

“Of course,” Clark said, mind racing with everything that needed to be done, “how old does he look?”

“Around Damian’s age,” Danny smiled softly, “I’m not sorry to say they’re already friends. Dami named him. Jonathan.”

Clark laughed, just as soft as Danny’s smile, “That’s my father’s name.”

“What a coincidence.”

“Yes.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Whereas Connor had mostly grown into his body, Jonathan was as gangly as any colt Clark had ever seen.

Whereas Damian had grace and poise, Jonathan was all limbs and enthusiasm.

“Jonathan,” Damian said very seriously, guiding his new friend towards Clark, “this’s Clark Kent, Codename Superman. The boy beside him is his other clone-son Connor Kent, Codename Superboy.”

“Wicked!” Jonathan beamed, just like Connor did, just like Clark did.

Clark knelt, Connor followed, “Hello, Jonathan. I’m Clark, he’s Connor.”

Jonathan bounced on his feet, “So cool! Call me Jon, only Dami calls me Jonathan!”

“My friends call me Kon,” Connor smiled warmly, “how’re you finding life outside the tube, little brother?”

“So awesome! Everyone’s been so nice and the Princess’s a clone too and she says she knows more clones! Are you one of them?”

“Yup. The Princess was my very first friend; did you know she named me?”

“She did?” Jon’s eyes widened, “that’s so cool! Dami gave me my name! It means a gift from a god!”

Connor and Clark chuckled at his joy before Connor explained, “Mine means wolf-lover or wolf-friend because I made friends with—”

“Wulf!” Jon actually bobbed in the air, “He’s so cool too! Everything said werewolves don’t exist but he’s a werewolf ghost so they must have existed at some time, right?”

Clark raised an eyebrow; a ghost werewolf?

Then he realized this ‘Wulf’ must have been safe or else the Phantoms wouldn’t allow the kids within a thousand miles of him.

Danny watched over the Supers with a pleased eye; he and Sam had been ready to take in Jon but he was glad to see the boy with a family that could help with his incoming powers.

Chapter Text

Damian's First Cold:

The first time Damian got sick was an ordeal.

His parents fretted and worried, hovering, helping clear his little nose with a suction bulb.

It was just a cold, all the medical professionals agreed, but little coughs broke hearts.

The yetis refused to cure him, citing his immune system needing to develop, and his pediatricians could only treat the symptoms.

They shushed and they cooed; they walked and rocked him. They sang and cried with him.

Then Sam got sick as well.

She refused to stay down in bed.

Then Danielle got the cold as well. She at least had the sense to suffer in bed. But her powers went on the fritz. Which was when they discovered her own ice powers.

Danny and Tucker were near run off their feet and the Fentons and Mansons had to step in.

“I’m fine,” Sam protested from her bed, as everyone had relocated to the Mansons’ Mansion.

“No, honey, you’re not,” Jeremy replied, patting her back through a coughing fit.

“But Dani and Dami—”

“Are well in hand, Samantha,” Pamela arrived with soup, “they have their father, uncle, and both sets of grandparents. It’s okay to rest.”

Sam sagged back slightly, “Frostbite—”

“Is monitoring Danielle,” Pamela informed her simply, handing over the soup, “Doctor Peterson is on-call for Damian. Clockwork is handling the Realms for Daniel.”

“Fine,” she accepted the soup with some grace, “I want updates though; and I will get up if Danny goes down with this cold.”

“Understandable.

Thankfully, Danny never did get the cold and everyone was well enough a few days later.

The last holdout was Tucker, who isolated in his house so as not to infect anyone again.

Chapter Text

Danny Proposes:

They were in the middle of the grocery store when he proposed; a spur of the moment thing as he watched her reach for something high, Damian in the little child seat in the cart.

“Marry me?”

It wasn’t very romantic, but it was genuine.

He had had plans, grand plans to romance her before proposing; a candlelight dinner, a dance beneath the stars.

Something more atmospheric than aisle four of the local warehouse store.

But Sam replied, as casually as anything, “Yes. Now come help me get this down, will you?”

Danny laughed, lifting up and grabbing the jumbo pack of toilet paper rolls; nobody around them blinked at his use of his powers, all used to him.

Touching back down, he put the pack in the cart and then he kissed his now fiancée.

The ring was at home but she didn’t mind, teasing him about it like everything else.

It wasn’t what he planned but it was right for them.

Chapter Text

Dani and the Clones:

“This’s Jenny,” Danielle introduced, “she’s my friend and another clone. Jenny, the Kent boys, Connor and Jonathan. They’re clones too.”

“Nice to meet you,” Connor offered a hand and Jenny shook it with an almost normal amount of strength for a human, “call me Kon and he’s Jon.”

“Are you a meta?” Jon asked questioningly, cocking his head and studying Jenny’s chest, “Or maybe sick. Your heartbeat’s weird!”

Jenny laughed, “No. I have two hearts,” she crossed both, “like my dad. I’m not even human, mostly.”

“That’s cool,” Kon said, with a smile, “me and Jon are only half-human.”

“I’m like five percent human,” Jenny explained, “the sample they stole from dad was contaminated by mom’s DNA—skin cells, they’re always holding hands.”

“We don’t know how our makers got the samples needed from Dad—well, he’s not really our template. Our template wanted nothing to do with us so the Ghost King found another version who took us in.”

“Well, your template’s an idiot,” Jenny rolled her eyes, “it took awhile but Dad came ‘round; he has some baggage about our species. We’re the last two in existence!”

“Dad’s the last pure Kryptonian in this dimension,” Kon commiserated, “meaning we’re technically the last three altogether.”

“There’s three known halfas,” Danielle piped up, “Plasmius, Dad, and me. Plasmius’ exiled from our Earth though. If he ever shows his face again, Dad’ll have him killed.”

The other three winced.

“Why?” Jon asked.

“Because Plasmius has committed crimes against the Crown,” Danielle explained gently, “not to mention he’d try to kill us all to take the Crown itself. Dad doesn’t like killing but Plasmius leaves us no choice.”

Kon clapped his hands together, “Enough about that; we’ve eavesdroppers, c’mon out guys.”

Two boys sheepishly joined them.

“Jenny, my little brother Damian,” Danielle introduced, “ and his would-be brother and Kon’s boyfriend, Tim.”

“Would be brother?” Jenny asked, confused.

“My biological father adopted Timothy,” Damian explained simply, “had Uncle Bruce raised me, as was his right, we would have been brothers.”

“Ah.”

“Who’re you a clone of, Jenny?” Tim asked, gaining facepalms from everyone but Jenny for his insensitivity.

“Babe,” Kon groaned.

“What? It’s a valid question!”

“Rein in the Battiness, please sweetheart.”

Jenny smiled, “It’s okay. I’m a Time Lady, daughter of the Doctor.”

Everyone but Danielle boggled.

“The Doctor,” Tim’s voice was high, “as in, Doctor Who?”

“Who?”

“Guy with a spaceship that’s disguised as a big blue box?” Kon’s voice was excited, “travels time and space?”

Jenny cocked her head, “Sounds like him, how d’ya know?”

“Because your whole universe is fictional here, Jenny,” Danielle explained quietly, “a whole media franchise. Your Dad’s the main character. It’s called Doctor Who.”

Jon began shaking in excitement, “Dad lets us watch it all the time. It’s one of the only shows where the alien character is the good guy!”

“Wait,” Kon said, “you’re Jenny! Why didn’t you—”

“I was sent to take the bullet,” Danielle explained quickly, “Clockwork dropped me in.”

“Oh.”

“C’mon,” Danielle said, grinning toothily, “since Tim’s here we can use his family’s game room!”

“You don’t have one?” Tim asked, surprised as the group started to move.

“No, we do. Dad just doesn’t want aliens in the Zone for too long,” Danielle explained, “no idea how non-human DNA would react to ecto-contamination.”

“Ah.”

They thundered into Wayne Manor, where the group hung out for the rest of the day; Alfred kept them in snacks and drinks and they finished the day off with a movie marathon.

The Queen came to collect her children and their guest, shepherding the three children through a portal where the King was waiting to send Jenny back home.

Chapter Text

Damian's First Wayne-Interview:

Damian’s first interview as a Wayne adjacent was conducted by Clark Kent; Bruce had specifically requested him for the interview as the man had been interviewing the Waynes since Dick was a child.

It was an informal interview, in one of the many sitting rooms in Wayne Manor, and Damian was surrounded by family, including his parents.

“Speaking of your parents; Mister and Missus Fenton-Manson, you were very young when you received Damian. Why did you take him and not, say, your parents?”

“Damian was basically dumped on Danny,” Sam spoke simply, “and Danny decided he had a son now. I told him we had a son. The exact circumstances are classified for our privacy. We didn’t know who his father was but as he grew he began looking suspiciously like Mister Wayne—that is, Bruce.”

“They contacted me,” Bruce picked up the story, for that’s all it was, a public story, “thinking it was a long shot. I had had a fling around the time Damian would have been conceived and he did look enough like me that I agreed to a test. It came back positive.”

“And you didn’t fight for custody?”

“Why would I?” Bruce asked back easily, “They obviously love Damian as their own. Why would I rip him away from everything he’s ever known? I am ready and willing to take him in if ever needed but I will not disrupt his life as it is.”

“Uncle Bruce has been very clear that he would have taken me had he known of my birth,” Damian piped up evenly, “and that I am always welcomed in his home. Why my birthmother did not contact him, we do not know. Father and Mother were given me by my maternal grandfather, we believe.”

“How old were you?” Clark asked of the Fenton-Mansons.

“Fifteen, almost sixteen, like a month off,” Danny replied.

“Sixteen and a half, almost exactly,” Sam answered, “like Bruce said, it was a very illegal adoption; we had to jump through so many legal hoops to get the paperwork in order because of how everything went down.”

“Huh. But everything is in order? Now?”

“Yes. We are legally his parents, and it’s ironclad.”

“What was it like, Damian, having parents so young?” Clark asked.

“Some of my earliest memories are of their high school years,” Damian admitted, “particularly of their literature teacher. He is…enthusiastic about his subject.”

“Mister Lancer’s also looking forward to having Damian in his class as an actual student,” Danny added with some humor, before explaining, “we took Dami almost everywhere with us. Our best friend helped. He wants to stay anonymous.”

“Understandable.”

“However,” Damian continued, “they love and raise me as any parent should. One of my fondest early memories is attending a school dance with them.”

“Everyone in our school loved Dami,” Sam explained, “which was…amazingly helpful and something we didn’t expect. At that school dance he remembers, he got to dance with all the girls and some of the boys while Danny and I enjoyed ourselves. Of course, we kept an eye on him.”

“We expected to only have our families helping,” Danny added, “even our best friend, we weren’t expecting him to help as much as he does. We knew, going in, that’d be hard but the amount of help we got—we honestly were surprised and so, so grateful.”

Clark nodded.

“For example,” Damian continued, “I obviously don’t remember but a woman I call auntie would help change my diapers because the men’s bathroom did not have a changing table. She did not have to help but she did.”

“And Bruce, how does hearing this make you feel?”

“I am glad that Damian’s so loved and that his parents had as much help as they did.”

“Damian, onto you, do you go to school?”

“Yes, of course. The school shall also remain anonymous but I attend the same school as my parents did when they were my age. I have friends who I will not name for their privacy. My teachers know of my situation and accommodate for it, especially when I was younger and they were still in school themselves.”

“We’re the youngest in the parent group for his age-group,” Sam said, “but the other parents are—for the most part—okay with us being there.”

“Huh. So, Bruce, how did you react to the news you had another child, one put up for adoption without your knowledge?”

“I was surprised at his adopted parents’ ages,” Bruce admitted, flexing his hand, “and angry that he had been adopted out as he had been. He wasn’t really adopted out, per se, but abandoned to two teens. Thank god they stepped up and didn’t put him into the System where he could have been lost to me forever. My next thought for making sure they had all the support they needed; I offered to pay child support. They declined, though they did accept a trust fund in Damian’s name for his use upon his majority. My third was getting to know Damian if he wanted to meet. I wasn’t going to force anything. Thankfully, Damian accepts me as an Uncle. I am only his sperm donor as far as we care.”

“Uncle Bruce has accepted me into his family,” Damian said smiling, “as have my would-be siblings. I am occasionally babied due to my age but they treat me well and have made their feelings on my situation clear. That they, like Uncle Bruce, would have accepted me as a babe had they know of my birth.”

“You didn’t want child support?”

“We don’t need it and we weren’t after money,” Danny said, shrugging, “it might have been nice when we were teens but, now? Don’t need it. We mainly wanted to let Dami know his background. Also medical information. That was a big reason.”

“We literally had nothing on Dami’s medical history before us, when we first met Bruce,” Sam added.

“I, of course, released all the information I could,” Bruce nodded, “as far back as I could go. Unfortunately, I cannot give medical information on his mother.”

“Further testing revealed I am a quarter Arabic, a quarter Chinese, and half Caucasian,” Damian spoke, “Mother and Father have introduced cultural dishes into our diets and we are working on reaching out to the communities in hopes of more information and connection. I also already attend synagogue and have a family rabbi who is knowledgeable about the situation.”

“Did it surprise you that your biological father is also Jewish, like your adoptive mother?”

“I find it affirming, a sign that I am where I should be. While I myself do not fully subscribe to the belief itself, which is allowed, I find it…too much of a coincidence to be truly so.”

“And, Bruce, what do you think? Are you glad your son is being raised in the church so to speak?”

“I’m glad he’s happy and healthy,” Bruce repeated, “his faith is none of my business. But yes, I am glad he knows some of his cultural background from the get-go. While I don’t necessarily practice myself outside the holy days, I am…comforted that we still have that connection even if by happenstance.”

“And, Danny. You’re a gentile, yes? What’s it like?”

“Well,” Danny chuckled, “we don’t have bacon in the house. But, being serious, it’s no big deal. I’m only nominally Christian myself. I don’t go to church. Sam’s synagogue is progressive enough that they accept me and our marriage. I don’t mind if she wants to raise the children Jewish, as long as they have a choice at some point whether to keep the faith or not. Like Damian. Right now, he’s interested and willing to follow the rules.”

“But if he ever decides he doesn’t want to,” Sam picked up, smiling, “then that’s okay too. We’re not gonna force anyone into anything.”

“If Damian gets interested in Christianity, we’ll find him a church,” Danny continued, “if he’s interested in Islam or Wicca or anything, we’ll help him explore it to the best of our abilities.”

Chapter Text

A Wayne Gala:

Damian’s first gala as a Wayne adjacent was a classy affair; he was introduced to Gotham high society and Bruce was happy to do the introductions.

His appearance had been something of a bomb in high society. Though everyone was too polite to say much to his face.

Though some had mentioned his dark skin and young parents and whether he was suited to high society.

Damian could not tell anyone who he was exactly; it would make too many waves and raise too many questions so he relied on his Court training to remain polite and sociable.

“Bruce!” a redhead swanned up, half full wine glass in her hand, “What’s this about another child?”

“Kate,” Bruce replied warmly, “Damian, my cousin, Kate Kane. Kate, my biological son who was adopted out by his mother, Damian Fenton.”

Kate crouched down, setting her wine glass on the floor and ignoring the muttering about her actions, and looked, really looked at Damian’s face.

“Talia?” she murmured to Bruce who nodded.

“I’ll tell you the full story later,” Bruce murmured back.

“Well, then, Damian,” Kate raised her voice back into normal range, “just call me Aunt Kate. All of Bruce’s kids do. Welcome to Gotham, kiddo. Glad to meet you.”

“It is nice to meet you too, Aunt Kate,” Damian held out his hand politely.

She shook hands and grabbed her glass, standing up, “Well, Bruce, you put the kid to the wolves, you know that right?”

Bruce grimaced a smile, “I know, but there’s been too many questions, Kate.”

She nodded before looking back to Damian, “If you get overwhelmed, Damian, just come find me and we’ll hang.”

She disappeared into the crowd.

Damian mingled gracefully but was soon saved by the appearance of his parents.

“Danny, Sam,” Bruce called lightly, snagging two non-alcoholic drinks, “glad you could make it. Lovely dress by the way, Sam.”

“So sorry we’re late,” Sam replied, taking a glass while Danny took the other, “Anakin was fussy and we weren’t going to leave him like that. Thanks, Mari made it.”

“I get it,” Bruce smiled; he was well-known for being late or skipping parties entirely if one of his children needed him.

Of course, he wouldn’t mind if two parents were late to a party of his.

“Mother, Father,” Damian joined them.

Danny handed his glass back to Bruce, to kneel and hug his son, “Dami! Doing okay?”

“Yes, Father.” Damian nodded seriously, before lowering his voice, “It is rather like Court, isn’t it? And Grandmother Pamela’s own parties.”

Danny nodded back, “It is. Well, let’s get to it.”

The next few hours were ones of polite interrogation for the Fenton-Manson adults; everyone wanted to know more about these newcomers, these complete unknowns.

Occasionally they would be rescued by a Wayne, or Kate, but mostly they just repeated the cover story and politely exited from conversations that became too probing.

The couple danced as well; mostly with each other but they also took turns with the Waynes regardless of gender and each took a spin with Kate and then Damian at some point.

Damian danced with his would-be siblings, also regardless of gender, and his Uncle Bruce, surprising their audience with his skill and grace at his age.

Unlike his father, who still had two left feet despite countless hours of classes and tutoring which was a direct contrast of his wife’s perfect steps in all the classic dances.

“I do better in the air,” Danny complained lowly to Dick, who stifled a laugh, as they both grabbed a snack from one of the tables of finger foods, “I swear I’m a better dancer when I can fly.”

Sam was dancing with Tim, each looking as if they had been born dancing those fancy dances.

Though in a way, they had been.

Sam had been trained since childhood in formal dancing, one of the only parts of her wealthy upbringing she hadn’t rebelled against.

No doubt Tim’s childhood curriculum had been similar.

Dick nodded sympathetically, still chuckling, “I get it. Being in the air’s so freeing.”

As the two commiserated, Damian started to tire.

Jason found him resting his eyes in a corner and simply hefted him up, “C’mon, brat. Let’s find a parent.”

As if summoned, Sam appeared, “What’s wrong?”

“I am tiring,” Damian admitted with a yawn.

“Alfie has a bedroom ready for him,” Jason said, already making his way from the party, Sam right beside him.

“Okay. Danny, it’s okay. He’s just getting sleepy.”

Danny had joined them, worried that his son was being carried instead of walking.

“Oh, d’ya want me to come?”

“Nah,” Jason shook his head, “I’ll just show Sam here to the room Alfred’s set up for Damian and we’ll put the kid to bed. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Okay”

It only took fifteen minutes at most for the two adults to return, sans Damian, and the party went on.

Chapter Text

Nargles and Balls:

Harry pulled Hermione to a corner and put up a spell his parents created to ensure privacy.

“Harry?”

“Hermione, I’ve a favor to ask,” he still spoke lowly, “I’ve asked Luna to the Ball but all her pretty things keep…ah, disappearing from her trunk.”

Her eyes flashed, “Someone’s stealing from her?”

“Yes. We’ve already told Flitwick. Look, I’m planning on taking her shopping for new dress robes and stuff. Can we keep her things in your trunk for now?”

“Get her another trunk, or a suitcase with an expansion charm,” Hermione ordered, “I’ll keep it under my bed. We’ll transfer anything she can’t stand to lose.”

Then she paused, asking just as lowly, “How bad is it, Harry?”

“She’s losing everything but her pants,” Harry explained tiredly but heatedly, “it has to be other Ravens. They leave her textbooks alone but take her homework too. Flitwick’s gonna try to figure out what’s going on. Padma Patil’s gonna look after her as much as she can.”

Hermione nodded, “We’ll help her, Harry. I’ll keep her homework for her if I have to. Have the rest of the teachers been told? If her work’s going missing then her marks…”

“They know now. They’re marking just her tests and exams right now. Having her do verbal question and answer and marking class participation. Not homework.”

Hermione relaxed, “Good.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh, Harry,” Luna said breathily, “no, I can’t. The Nargles will take it!”

The dress robes were a beautiful blue, complimenting her wide eyes, with matching flats.

“That’s why we’re hiding them in Hermione’s dorm,” Harry replied with a mischievous smile, “I’m buying you a new trunk so she can keep your things safe. Nargles won’t get past Hermione Granger.”

So he bought her the outfit, along with some silver jewelry, before leading her to the storage shop where he bought her a suitcase with expansion charms that made it comparable to a trunk.

That night, he and Flitwick escorted her to her dorm and helped her pack things into the suitcase. Mostly sentimental items that she couldn’t bear to have taken by the Nargles.

The suitcase was given to Hermione who made sure Luna knew she could come get her things at any time. The other girls in the dorm, once apprised of the situation, agreed and charged Harry with making sure Luna always knew the password to Gryffindor.

Luna embraced Hermione, tears in her eyes, “I—thank you!”

“You’re welcome, Luna,” Hermione hugged her back.

Luna Lovegood was one of the prettiest girls at the Ball, when the time came, and Harry made sure she had a grand time.

“Thank you, Harry Potter,” Luna said seriously as the night wound down.

“Thank you, Luna Lovegood.” He replied.

Chapter Text

Ra's Dies:

“You broke your Deal,” Sam said, a cruel smirk on her face and she snapped her fingers again; a small army of ghosts appeared and grabbed Ra’s, holding him down.

“You gave us Damian in return for more time,” she continued, “you agreed you’d never seek him out. You gave him us to do as we pleased.”

“Talia,” Ra’s snarled.

The woman appeared, “I did not make the Deal, Father.”

Talia had a sword in her hand and was splattered with blood, a thin cut graced her cheek, “I wanted my son, Father. I love him, as my son, as my nephew. I agreed not to seek custody and they allow visitation.”

“Traitor.”

More ghosts rescued Damian.

Both Sam and Talia softened, with Sam asking, “You okay, Dami?”

“Yes, Mother, Aunt Talia,” Damian replied, even as a medic checked him over, “he had yet to begin any so-called training. I believe he was hoping to turn me against the family.”

“Oh, baby,” Sam sighed, “as soon as Batman sent word, your sister and father raised the army and headed straight here.”

“Traitor!” Ra’s roared.

“Why would I ever be loyal to you, Father?” Talia asked simply, adding, “One of the conditions of seeing Damian is continuous therapy. You have abused me my entire life, in one way or another. I can see that now.”

She turned to Sam and offered her sword, “Do you wish to do the honor, Your Majesty?”

Sam nodded, taking the sword and moving towards Ra’s who finally started showing fear.

“The Detective—”

“Has stood aside as this matter is beyond him,” Talia cut him off, kneeling to a knee, “Her Majesty acts in his husband’s stead now. My Beloved understands this and will stand aside.”

“By order and consent of Ghost King Daniel Phantom, I hereby sentence Ra’s al-Ghul to Final Death,” Sam intoned.

In one sure, clean stroke, she took the wannabe immortal’s head then just as quickly trapped his spirit in a thermos.

“Destroy the body,” she ordered the soldiers who nodded and left with the corpse and head.

Sam picked up the thermos, locking it down completely.

And so Ra’s al-Ghul died; not to any great foe but to a mother he angered.

Chapter Text

Damian Meets the Waynes:

Chaos.

“Enough!” Bruce, Batman, roared in that voice that nobody—not even Jason at his worst—ignored.

Everyone stilled, statues, and waited for information, for instructions.

Bruce nodded sharply, “Thank you. As I was saying, I ran the DNA test myself and it came back as a positive match to both myself and Talia al-Ghul. King Phantom’s most trusted advisor assures us all that there is no mistake. The boy—Damian—is my biological son.”

Tim nodded, already typing away, “So extraction plans—Babs, could you—”

“No,” Bruce refuted, “no need. We’re leaving him with the Phantoms. They’ve loved and raised him.”

“Then why tell us?” Dick cried out, obviously putting together the pieces that Talia had told the most horrid lie.

“Because his parents are going to allow visitation,” Bruce explained, “as long as Damian wants it.”

He inhaled, “They’re coming for dinner next week; I’ve already spoken to Alfred. Missus Phantom, the Queen, and Damian are both strictly vegan and both eat kosher.”

Jason nodded, “I’ll help Alfie then.”

Alfred nodded back, “Very good, Master Jason

“Why does the Queen eat?” Stephanie asked, “Isn’t she a ghost?”

“She’s human. Her husband’s the ghost. Though I’m told he also eats. Speedster level metabolism, I’m told.”

Bruce braced himself, “And they know I’m Batman. They most likely know about all of you. Damian was in the cave for testing.”

Chaos.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Please, treat us like normal humans,” the King said, “we’re not here as royalty but as Damian’s parents.”

“You got it,” Stephanie flashed a thumbs up, “Mr. Phantom, Mrs. Phantom.”

“Danny and Sam,” Sam corrected, “just Danny and Sam.”

“How did you get Damian?” Dick questioned.

“Father was summoned by my maternal grandfather,” Damian explained simply, “I was the sacrifice to the Ghost King in exchange for a longer life. Father and Mother adopted me despite their ages at the time.”

Every vigilante went still.

“Ex-fuckin’-cuse me?” Jason demanded, eyes flashing.

“Master Jason.”

He winced, “Sorry, Alfie.”

But Danny cocked his head, “You—you died before, didn’t you?”

Everyone stiffened, “What do you mean?”

“I can recognize other undead,” Danny explained, “You—you’re something I’ve never seen but undead all the same. Or maybe extremely liminal. But you don’t have a core so you’re not even half-ghost.”

“Someone can be half-ghost?” Bruce’s mind whirled.

Danny smiled sadly, “It’s very rare but it happens. Usually lab accidents and extreme exposure to ectoplasm in traumatic ways.”

Everyone contemplated this.

“But Jay isn’t half-ghost?” Tim asked, thinking.

“Nope. Stinks of ectoplasm but no core so no ghostliness.”

Jason sighed, wiping a hand down his face, “But I was killed then resurrected then dumped into a Lazarus Pit by Talia.”

“Glowing green liquid? Used by the old guy who gave us Damian?” Danny asked.

“Yep.”

“That would do it. That’s corrupted ectoplasm,” Danny sighed tiredly, “nasty stuff. Lemme guess, mood swings?”

“Irrational, unstoppable, homicidal rage,” Jason reported.

“Figures. Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Can we go back to Jason being undead?” Dick demanded, “And Damian being a sacrifice?”

“I don’t think he’s actually undead,” Danny replied, “lots more complications with being all undead. I think he’s just extremely liminal—that means, closer to Death or death-touched than most healthy people. Can’t be sure without him getting checked by an expert. Like my doctor, Frostbite.”

“As for Damian,” Sam spoke up, “it’s good form to have a sacrifice of some sort on hand if you wanna make a Deal. The previous King liked human sacrifices. We don’t but we accept them and adopt them into the family.”

“I have several siblings so adopted as well,” Damian said, “only three were wished away accidentally, for their own safety.”

“Dinner is ready,” Alfred announced and led everyone to the larger dining room where the tablet was fairly groaning with dishes and pitchers.

Dinner was a quiet affair until Damian questioned Dick on his acrobatic abilities; after that, with the Bat secret out, dinner was loud and rambunctious as the Wayne family simply accepted the Phantoms into the fold.

Chapter Text

Diana and Damian:

Diana called for the end of the spar.

“You wield your blade well,” she told the boy.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Damian replied, sheathing his sword.

“Why did you pick the sword, young one?”

“I saw my parents sparring,” he said simply, “and wished to do so myself. My Father sought teachers, including his military advisor, the Fright Knight. When The Fright Knight proved inadequate for these purposes, Father called in a favor with Lady Pandora.”

Diana blinked, “Pandora, as in the first Amazon?”

Damian nodded, “I believe so.”

It would handily explain the Amazonian moves in his repertoire. But for an Amazon to teach a boy-child their ways.

What sort of favor was the King owed and why?

“And how was…Lady Pandora as a teacher?”

“Gentle and understanding,” Damian reported, “she who had trained many warriors understood that I knew nothing and began with the basics. We…played many games that in retrospect taught valuable skills. I was…too unskilled for anything else at first. The Fright Knight was simply too skilled to be an appropriate teacher for me. He is better now, at teaching beginners. Father asked Lady Pandora to tutor the Fright Knight in more appropriate methods.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Still, to know this boy was taught by one of her foremothers was rather awe-inspiring.

“Perhaps I could tell you more about Lady Pandora,” Damian offered shyly.

Diana smiled, “I’d like that, young one.”

Chapter Text

The Drawbacks of Animal Ears:

Danny poked his head out of the portal, “Hey, Spike; quick question, you wouldn’t happen to know a doctor that deals with demons, would you?”

“Whelp’s sick?” Spike asked back.

Danny made a face, “Something’s wrong with his ears.”

“Yeah, I know a doc.”

That night, Spike once again led them to a medical office.

Doctor Liken was something that could pass as human and had gone to medical school for both human medicine and veterinary medicine before studying under several demonic healers.

But he was kind as he examined InuYasha, as kind as any pediatrician could be.

“Ear mites,” Liken diagnosed, “see it all the time in animals and those with animal ears. With a secondary infection from all the scratching making sores.”

Danny caught InuYasha’s hands as they reached to scratch, “Okay, so medication?”

“I’ll give you ear drops; twice a day, for a month. Hopefully they work. I’ve never dealt with an Inuyoukai half-breed, but I did work with a wolf demon once.”

Liken wrote out the prescription, adding, “Give this to my pharmacist and he’ll get you set up. For the infection, another type of drops. Once a day for a month. The first drops will also help with pain and itching. For the sores on the back of his ears, an over-the-counter cream, like Neosporin, can be used. Try to trim his claws down or maybe use oven mitts. Just stop him from scratching. If he shows any adverse side-effects, any reactions, stop the meds and bring him straight back here immediately.”

Danny nodded, taking mental notes, “Got it. Do you understand what the doctor said, ‘Yasha?”

The boy nodded, clenching his hands into fists in order to not scratch at his ears.

But they were so itchy!

Within the hour they had all the prescribed medication and Danny was kneeling in the Summers’ living room and dropping drops into his son’s ears.

As soon as the first set started working, InuYasha relaxed.

His ears felt so much better.

So every day for the next month, InuYasha took his drops without complaint and the infestation and infection cleared up without any bad side-effects.

Chapter Text

Not Canon Wands For Harry and Neville:

“Actually, Mister Ollivander,” Danny spoke up, pulling his hair from the ponytail he wore and plucking two snow-white strands without even a wince, “I’d like you to make the boys’ wands using my hair if possible.”

He had been growing out his hair for that very reason after all; he would be getting a haircut after this.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Within the six hours, during which the family had lunch and finished their shopping, the old wandmaker was handing over two new wands, “For Mister Longbottom, Cherry with the hair of the Ghost King. For Mister Potter, Holly with the hair of the Ghost King.”

The boys each closed their eyes, almost in ecstasy and relief, as each wand shot off silver sparks.

“Thank you, Uncle Danny,” both boys said in unison, opening their eyes.

“You’re very welcome, kiddos,” he replied with a grin, “but really, you should thank Clockwork. He prepped me for this.”

“That would be thirteen galleons each,” Ollivander spoke, “since they are custom made wands.”

“Oh dear,” Alice spoke, looking in her purse, “we only brought enough for a regular wand.”

“Us too, I’m afraid,” Lily agreed.

Sam waved them down, opening her purse and pulling out twenty-six of the strange gold coins, “Consider it an early Christmas gift. Also thank Clockwork for helping with the exchange.”

Ollivander took his payment and said his goodbyes before disappearing into the stacks of wands.

“What a weirdo,” Danny muttered as everyone left the shop.

Chapter Text

Free Play Day:

Paige was nearly vibrating as she led her sisters through the portal; her hair was neatly braid and up in a bun.

They landed in a field; a large tent was set up and cordoned off.

Paige’s family was gathered already. Everyone was just as excited Paige seemed to be, buzzing around each other.

“Paige,” Piper said lowly, “what’s going on?”

“Free-play.” Paige bounced, “basically we get to go all out with any power we have.”

Before there could be any more questions, someone clapped twice, loudly.

All the Phantoms turned their attention to the source.

“Alright everyone, we’ve got some newcomers today so we’re running down the rules,” Sam spoke clearly and everyone groaned but nodded.

“First, try not to break anyone or anything,” she began listing off, “second, those that can use magic must keep to minor jinxes. Third, no going after people who’re sitting this out. Fourth, stay within the marked area.”

She listed out several more rules (twenty-seven: No food fights) before grinning and saying, “if you’re sitting out, head to the tent…”

Several people, all non-Phantoms moved towards the tent; Piper and Phoebe included.

Sam nodded, grinned, and said, “Now, since Anakin won last year, he’s…It.”

An explosion of movement and Anakin and his mother were left abandoned where once had been a small army.

Sam had a stopwatch and was counting, “twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! Okay, Ani, off you go!”

Anakin took off at a lazy jog.

Her children, guests, and husband, off playing, Sam retreated to the tent.

It was set up as a lounge, with a television playing some sort of movie, another set up for video games, books and magazines, tables of food and drink ready, and furniture dotted around. Plush carpets covered the grass and fans kept the air cool inside.

“They’ll be at it all day,” Sam explained, even as she picked up Davy from his playpen and gave him a cuddle, “unless there’re major injuries. So just relax. Bathrooms are around the back of the tent.”

“What exactly is going on?” asked a woman, she held a strange cat.

“It’s Free-Play day,” Sam said, “everyone’s allowed to use whatever powers and skills they have in a game of tag, hide and seek, and usually, a giant brawl at the end. You don’t have to be a Phantom to play either. I’m surprised you didn’t join in, Sango.”

“InuYasha and Anakin never explained what was happening,” another woman explained.

“Of course they didn’t,” Sam shook her head, tossing her son into the air; he floated for a few seconds, maybe a moment, before landing back in her hands.

“The child can fly?” asked a man, interested. He was an older man.

“Ghostliness bred true, Alfred,” Sam replied, still throwing Davy, “thankfully. So he’s getting his powers in. Like learning how to walk. Thankfully he leaned that before he could float.”

“Ah. Of course, that makes sense.”

With that, everyone mingled, swapping stories and telling each other what Phantom they were brought with.

Magic wasn’t a secret here and so they all spoke freely about their own abilities and those of their respective Phantoms.

Davy toddled around, sometimes floating briefly, to those he knew well enough to become comfortable with and he got plenty attention from those people.

Piper and Phoebe found themselves quickly folded into the extended family.

“You’re Paige’s sisters,” Sam said with a soft smile, “of course you’re family!”

“They do seem to take anyone,” Sango joined them, “I tried to kill InuYasha and Anakin, I was tricked, and yet they took me in as pack, family.”

Her cat had grown enormous and was playing with Davy; nobody but the Halliwells looked askance at this.

Hours later, shouts and yells started filtering in and there were sounds of a scuffle outside the tent.

Sam didn’t even look up from her book, “Oh good, they’re right on time.”

“The, uh, brawl part?” Piper asked and everyone nodded.

“Yep,” Sam agreed, “it’s all in good fun. It lets them work out any remaining energy; please don’t leave the tent. We’re shielded and protected from any stray powers or abilities.”

Within two hours, Sam exited the tent, everyone followed her (except Davy who was sleeping with Kirara).

The Queen took in everyone’s state and asked, “Okay, so who won?”

“Adrien.” Came the chorus.

“So Adrien wins.”

Adrien pumped a fist into the air as everyone else grumbled good naturedly.

Everyone, including Davy and Kirara, trooped back up to the palace where a veritable feast waited.

But first all the brawlers had to be checked out by their doctors.

Healing done, Paige met up with her sisters, flushed and bright-eyed with excitement and they had dinner before heading home.

Next year, the Halliwells decided, they would join in.

Chapter Text

Luna and Hermione meet Harry's Aunt and Uncle:

The portal opened and Harry escorted his partners through.

Straight into the palace.

“Harry,” Hermione said slowly, “we’re meeting your uncle and aunt, right?”

“Who happen to be the Ghost King and Ghost Queen respectively,” Harry dropped the bombshell, nodding, “Welcome to the Palace, Luna, Hermione.”

“What?!” Hermione squawked but Luna just nodded.

Hermione froze, “Harry! I’m not—”

“Hush, Hermione, Uncle Danny and Aunt Sam don’t care about formalities or ceremony or whatever,” Harry soothed.

“Harry, how do you do you know the Ghost King?” Luna asked without blinking at the news.

Harry explained and Hermione shrieked, “Your soul!?”

Harry sighed and took something from his pocket, “Drink.”

Hermione fumed but took the vial, opening it up and downing it like a shot; immediately, she relaxed.

“Are you feeling better, Hermione?” Luna asked.

“A little,” the other witch admitted, somewhat muted, “but, oh, Harry, your soul?”

“Uncle Danny really doesn’t want it,” Harry repeated, “but it’s for my safety. Mine and Nev’s.”

He patted his chest, “I still have it, by the way. Physically, I mean. I’m just…it’s on loan? When I die, I’ll become a ghost like Uncle Danny—well, not exactly but still—and he’ll really own me but still, he doesn’t want souls. Mum and Dad, and Auntie Alice and Uncle Frank did the ritual wrong. Supposed to sell their souls. Not ours.”

As they talked, he led them further into the palace, explaining, “There was some stupid prophecy about me or Nev beating Voldemort; our parents wanted help. But it turns out that Voldemort did something very evil and stupid that got Uncle Danny’s attention anyway. Not allowed to say what.”

He led them through a maze of hallways, “So Uncle Danny and Aunt Sam took me and Neville for about a year so they could protect us and help sort out the problem as much as they were allowed to. Voldemort believed in the prophecy so it was going to come to pass without their intervention.”

They arrived at a sitting room where an older couple were waiting. It wasn’t very regal, the room. It looked like an ordinary lounge.

Luna immediately curtsied and Hermione followed, but Harry dragged them upright again, saying, “Uncle Danny, Aunt Sam, these are my girlfriends Luna Lovegood and Hermione Granger. Ladies, my Uncle Danny and Aunt Sam.”

The King and Queen laughed, standing.

“Welcome, Luna and Hermione,” Danny said kindly, “to the Infinite Realms, you can call us Danny and Sam.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Majesties,” Hermione replied.

Luna, however, was studying Danny, head cocked, and she walked up to him fearlessly, “You’re still alive, Your Majesty?”

She reached for his wrist and took his pulse; Danny allowed it with some amusement.

“Hermione, do muggles have slower pulses than wizards?” Luna questioned.

“No,” Hermione joined her, interested enough to forget her manners, and also checked Danny’s pulse, “That’s…far too slow. Maybe he’s a hybrid of some sort? Hagrid’s pulse is slower than most.”

“Of what though? He’s far too small to be Giant or Troll. Too tall to be Goblin or Gnome…”

Sam laughed, earning the witches’ attention, and said kindly, “Danny’s half ghost, dears.”

“Half ghost,” Hermione repeated, aghast, “how can someone be half ghost?”

“Like this,” and Danny shifted, before adding, “lab accident when I was a kid.”

Even Luna’s eyes bugged out.

Harry stifled a chuckle.

Chapter Text

Luke and Leia are Born (and Padme Lives):

It was the big day; the day they had been prepping and planning for for most of a year; the entire family was gathered, including all extensions, outside the operating room.

Doctors and healers and those with healing abilities had crowded inside the operating room, people from across the dimensions.

Padme Skywalker (-Manson, nee Naberrie, sometimes Amidala) had gone into labor.

And they would not lose her.

But only a few of the family could actually be of any help, even as massive as it was, so they waited.

Everyone waiting had something to occupy their time; whether that be paperwork and reports to write up, read, or approve, books to read, handheld consoles to play, or crafts to do, everyone had something.

Suddenly, those with enhanced hearing all focused on the doors to the surgical suite. That gained everyone else’s attention.

A moment.

Two.

Then Anakin came waltzing out in his scrubs, beaming so widely it must have hurt, tears in his eyes, “Everyone made it! Leo’s healing Padme right now and the twins are perfectly healthy!”

A cheer went up.

Within the hour, Anakin and Padme were introducing Leia Shmi and Luke Samuel Skywalker-Manson to the entire family.

There was a lot of cooing and baby-talk to the newborns.

Chapter Text

Connor Meets Tim:

It was an overcast day when Connor met his other god-siblings.

Connor would come to find that it was always overcast in Gotham and that’s why Clark had him work a few days on the sunny Kent Farm beforehand.

“You’re so young,” Clark explained, “and your powers are still coming in.”

Once in Gotham, Connor understood.

The Waynes welcomed them warmly.

“Hello, Connor,” Bruce greeted, holding out a hand for a handshake and not even wincing when Connor was a shade or two too strong.

Connor was still learning, after all.

He met the Wayne boys and Cassandra, Barbara Gordon and Stephanie Brown and marveled at how easily they accepted a clone as one of theirs.

He knew just who they were, they were the Bats of Gotham, but still.

“Not a weapon,” Tim translated for the signing Cassandra, who preferred Cass, “not just a—copy. You are a person.”

Then he added, “She’s right. Just because you were born in a different way doesn’t make you any less than us.”

Then Tim launched into a ramble about human development and nature vs. nurture.

Connor found he liked when Tim talked about something so enthusiastically.

Jason, rolling his eyes at his little brother fondly, shepherded them to the picnic set up outside on one of the back lawns but didn’t interrupt.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Chapter Text

Enter, Chris Kent:

“Hey, Clark,” Danny stuck his head from the portal, grinning sheepishly.

All three Kryptonians looked to him.

Clark rubbed a hand down his face, “Your Majesty?”

“How do you feel about babies?”

“Another clone?”

Would other-Luthor ever quit, would other-Superman ever take responsibility?

“Surprisingly, not this time. One of my soldiers found a live pure Kryptonian baby,” Danny explained to their shock, “right there in the Zone. Perfectly healthy too. Clockwork says he’s the son of some Kryptonian General or other. Zod I think.”

“Oh Rao.”

Another Kryptonian? A pure one this time? The son of General Zod? What had the child been doing in the Realms?

Kon and Jon were switching between staring at their Dad and at their uncle in stunned awe.

Was it true? Was there another pure Kryptonian in existence?

“How old?” Clark lumbered to his feet, already dialing for Bruce.

“Frostbite says if he were human he’d be three to four months,” Danny replied, “but he’s never dealt with a Kryptonian so young so he can’t be sure.”

“Yes, we’ll take him—Bruce, Bruce I need a favor—I’m sorry to ask but Danny—”

Within twenty-four hours, the Kents had everything they needed for a baby.

And all the Kents and Waynes plus Lois were gathered to welcome their newest member. Even Damian was there, having been having a sleepover at Wayne Manor.

Another portal opened and Danny stepped through, carrying a car seat with a baby in it.

He set the seat down on the coffee table and undid the buckles.

He lifted the baby carefully, settling him into his arms with a practiced air.

Then Danny turned to Clark, “Clark, meet Christopher. Named after the soldier who found him. We’ve been calling him Chris.”

Clark held out his arms and Chris was transferred between the men.

“Hello, Chris,” Clark greeted his newest son softly.

Chris had the same dark hair, pale skin, and blue eyes as the rest of them, making Clark (and the Bats) wonder if those were species wide traits or if it was just a coincidence.

“Clockwork says human formula or breastmilk will work for him,” Danny was explaining to someone else, letting Clark have a moment, “he should grow like a human, like Clark did but if not we’ve doctors willing to look after an alien—Martha Jones, Kon and Jon’s doctor, already gave Chris a physical before I brought him. He’s about three months.”

Kon, who had been listening, nodded along. Doctor Jones knew her xenobiology better than anyone else they had met so far, save for the Time Lord Doctor, and knew as much about Kryptonians as was possible.

“Doctor Jones will take him on as a patient,” Danny continued, “Clockwork will still help coordinate appointments across the three dimensions.”

Jon was floating now, to get a better look at his little brother, “He’s so small!”

“Natural born children always are, compared to adults or even older children of the same species,” Damian explained, “it is easier to devote resources over time than all at once.”

Clark chuckled, “Everyone starts out this small; natural born or cloned. You were once this small, smaller even, Jon.”

“Weird!”

The next few hours was a game of ‘pass-the-baby’ as everyone wanted to meet Chris face to face; Bruce had brough several bottles of wine to celebrate with, plus grape juice for those that couldn’t or just didn’t drink.

“I love my boys but I hope to Rao that Chris is the last one for a while,” Clark said to Danny over cups of wine and grape juice respectively. Chris was in Jason’s arms at the moment, looking particularly content.

Danny laughed, nodding, “I get it. Trust me. I’ll have Clockwork work something out if we find another one so soon.”

“Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Enter, Emma Fenton:

“Hello, Emma,” the Queen took the lead, “I’m your paternal Grandmother, Samantha. I go by Sam.”

“I thought Sam was my uncle?” Emma asked, cocking her head.

Sam nodded, “He’s Samuel, one of my sons.”

She motioned to Danny, “This’s Danny, your grandfather.”

The Amazon girl stiffened, “You—didn’t kill him?”

“Humans don’t usually kill their mates,” Sam explained gently, “or their parents.”

“I…I was told to kill Dad. They said he would kill me.” Emma admitted, confused, “they said he’s a great Hunter and he’d kill me for not being human. Not being a baby.

“No, never,” Dean stepped in carefully, eyeing the knife he had given her as a security object for self-defense, “Emma, I’d only kill you if you start Hunting people. Like a monster. Whoever told you that bullshit—sorry Mom, Dad—is a liar. Even if we don’t want me as a parent, we’ll find you options. We even know more Amazons—Wonder Woman, remember that comic I showed you? We know her. We could ask her Amazons to take you in.”

“More Amazons?” Emma eyed him back with suspicion, “And you…you haven’t Hunted them? You don’t think them monsters? I know my…mom and aunts were…bad.”

“Just ‘cause they were bad don’t mean you are,” Dean said firmly, “look, why don’t we ask one of the good Amazons, Wonder Woman’s Amazons, to teach you better? They’ll teach you what you need. Dad, can you?”

Danny was already moving, having opened a portal, “Wonder Woman?”

“Your Majesty?” came a woman’s voice.

“Sorry to drop in but one of my sons slept with an Amazon of his dimension and they taught his daughter all sorts of nasty stuff. Like she has to kill her father and her future mate.”

“Goddess, may I come through?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

An Amazon came through the portal and zeroed in on Dean, clapping a hand to his shoulder as she looked him over, “I hope you are unharmed, child?”

“Yes, Miss Diana,” Dean smiled proudly, “Emma couldn’t go through with it. Barely a scratch if that.”

“That bodes well,” Diana nodded before turning to the unknown girl; she knelt and placed an arm over her breast.

“Greetings, sister,” Diana said, “I am Diana, Amazon of Themyscira. Man’s World knows me as Diana Prince and the heroine Wonder Woman. My mother is Queen of the Amazons, Hippolyta. Who might you be?”

Emma blinked, “I’m Emma…Fenton?”

Dean flashed her a thumbs up with a smile.

“I’m Emma Fenton,” Emma repeated, firmer.

“Well met, Emma Fenton,” Diana smiled kindly, “would you like to visit Themyscira? My mother would welcome you gladly.”

“My Dad…”

“Go on sweetheart,” Dean spoke up, “go for a few days, see if you like it. Maybe they have a therapist you can talk to about your Amazons. They must have dealt with Amazons like that before. I’ll be waiting for you. In fact, I’ll stay right here in the Zone and wait.”

“I will personally look after her, Dean,” Diana promised, “we do have therapists she can speak to as we have dealt with evil Amazons before.”

“Okay,” Emma nodded shyly, “I’ll go to Themyscira for a while. Can I…can I at least call my Dad?”

“Of course,” everyone chorused.

Diana stood up and said, “Your Majesty, if you could open a portal to the island?”

Danny nodded and did so.

Diana stood up and offered Emma her hand; the girl shyly took it and the two Amazons left.

They were greeted by Amazons as soon as they stepped through.

Once they were through the portal and the portal closed, Dean slumped.

Danny caught him.

“Dad, Dad, what do I do?” he asked plaintively, hanging off his shorter father like a small child.

“You accept it, you put one foot in front of the other,” Danny instructed gently, “oh, Dean, I’m so sorry this happened.”

“I always wear a condom,” Dean went on, “why didn’t I wear—could she had hypnotized me? Made me forget. I—remember her. Emma’s mom. So I wasn’t…wasn’t…it wasn’t…”

His parents’ hearts dropped, ice creeping up their spines.

Had their boy been assaulted? Love or lust-potioned in some way? Did the Amazons of his dimension have some sort of seductive ability like the Veela of Harry and Neville’s dimension?

“I always use protection,” Dean repeated, as if begging them to believe him, “I always—I don’t even pick up chicks that often. Or guys. Too dangerous. But I always use protection. I didn’t—Hunters don’t make good parents.”

“We can have a mind healer look,” Danny promised, rocking his son, “see if she used magic on you. We trust you. We trust you did everything right. You can talk to a therapist. You need to talk to a therapist.”

“And Emma, what do I do about Emma?” Dean questioned, “She—I don’t blame her. She didn’t mean to. She must hate me. I already suck as a dad.”

“Do you want her?” Sam asked gently.

“Yes! Ancients, yes!”

“Then you take it one day at a time,” she explained, “you love her as is and you work on things as they come up.”

She signaled for one of the servants to contact Sam.

In fact, she signaled for everyone to be called home.

This was a family matter.

Chapter Text

First Task:

“Dragons!” James shrieked as the first, a Chinese Fireball was placed in the arena.

“Dragons.” Sam said, whey-faced with fury and fear, “They’re following the plot so far. Dammit. Please don’t get the Horntail, Harry.”

“What?!” Lily screeched.

But Sam’s plea went unheard; Harry had been assigned the biggest, meanest dragon there.

The Hungarian Horntail.

The Potters screamed, as did the children sitting with them, but Sam remained silent, biting her knuckles and wishing Danny could have gotten away from his meeting.

Harry trudged into the arena, with the air of someone heading for the gallows; his wand was visible in his hand, ready to be brought to bear.

He stopped, stock-still, raised his wand and shouted something lost in the general mutterings of the audience and the grumblings of the Horntail.

His broom arrived seconds later.

“Oh Ancients,” Sam groaned into her hands, “please don’t let her break free. Just be the book, be the book. Not the movie.”

Again, nobody listened to her pleas as Harry angered the dragon enough that she broke loose.

So Harry led the dragon on a merry chase around the castle as his parents and friends prayed for his safety and his aunt just groaned.

Then he swooped back into the arena, grabbed his golden egg, and raced over the finish line just as the dragon arrived.

Working together, every adult witch and wizard used the stunning spell and brought the dragon down.

She was merely unconscious, feet away from her nest.

The Potters and Sam began making their way down from the stands and towards the medical tent.

“Harry James Potter!” James shouted, “YOU ARE GROUNDED FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!”

“Then your afterlife,” Sam added.

The Potters hugged their son between them.

“Madam Pomphrey,” Sam snagged the nurse, “is Harry okay?”

“Oh, yes. Some bruises but those were easy enough to heal.”

“Still grounded,” Lily muttered.

Chapter Text

Emma Returns From her Holiday:

Emma arrived back in the Realms three months after being taken to Themyscira.

(Three months that saw Dean in intensive therapy. He had been tampered with magically, a Veela-like ability having been used.)

Emma bounced through the portal; she looked healthy, more…natural.

“We healed her unnatural growth spurts,” Diana said, clapping her apprentice on the shoulder, “she will age as a human would until she is in her prime. Then she shall age like my Amazons.”

“Thank you,” Dean said sincerely, having feared burying his daughter due to her accelerated growth.

“Whoever built these Amazons did a very poor job of it,” Diana continued heatedly, before smiling, “but we were able to help young Emma here. My own mother extends a standing offer that she may visit as she wishes.”

“Thank you,” Dean repeated.

“It is an honor, to help the granddaughter of the Ghost King,” Diana waved his thanks away.

“Dad, Dad, Dad,” Emma bounced up to her father (and he didn’t flinch), “It was so cool! They taught me so much! I’m a good Amazon now!”

“You were always good, sweetheart,” Dean refuted quickly, “just confused. No one blames you.”

Emma jerked away from her father and instead turned to her grandparents and bowed deeply.

“Your Majesties,” she began, “I am so sorry for my actions and words. I—”

“Are a child,” Danny said firmly, “a traumatized child told two completely opposite worldviews.”

“Our granddaughter,” Sam added, before smiling, “we have no use for formalities amongst family. It’s okay, Emma.”

Emma gaped at their acceptance but stood, suddenly feeling very awkward.

Sam laughed lightly, grabbing her arm and walking her off, “C’mon, Emma. We’ll get you settled.”

Dean turned to Diana, to Wonder Woman, and bowed, “Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Your Highness.”

“We will always help our sisters,” she replied seriously, “no matter where they come from. Emma is an Amazon through and through. Though I would like words with whoever raised her. If you find those Amazons again, call me in.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Chapter Text

Third Task:

“Yes, Mister Potter?” Bagman asked politely because the boy had politely raised his hand.

“Are there any limitations on how we deal with the maze?” Harry asked, “could I, say, summon my broom again and just fly to the middle?”

“Ah, no. I’m sorry, that’s strictly prohibited this time,” Bagman replied with a chuckle, “you must transverse the maze, Mister Potter.”

“Alright,” Harry reached into the pocket of his uniform casually.

He entered the maze second and pulled an object from his pocket.

The object, which most muggleborns and a lot of half-bloods recognized as a gun of some sort, began to visibly vibrate before firing a green energy and blasting a hole clear through the hedges to the center of the maze.

Fleur looked through one of the holes, eyebrow raised, “Another gift from your uncle?”

“Fenton Ecto-Blaster,” Harry called back, “From Uncle Danny’s parents. Won’t do jack to most living things. But plants? Burns right through them. Shall we wait for the others?”

She pursed her lips but nodded.

Cedric and then Krum joined them.

Together, the four Champions scrambled through the holes and towards the center where the golden trophy sat.

Together, they all touched the trophy.

Together, they were whisked away.

Together, they landed, stunned, somewhere else.

They were greeted by a platoon of ghosts.

One bowed to Harry, “Mister Phantom, we did as His Majesty asked and stopped the ritual. The being known as Voldemort has been contained. Simply touch the trophy again and you will be returned.”

Harry nodded, even as, somewhat in shock, the Champions reached for the trophy, “Thank you.”

Together, they were returned to Hogwarts.

Shaken, three of the Four gave their statements while Harry merely said, “Uncle Danny took care of it.”

That only raised more questions.

Chapter Text

A Batty Trip to Amity Park (and Beyond!):

“Welcome to Amity Park,” Damian said seriously, “Welcome to my Father’s Haunt.”

The Waynes heard the importance of the word ‘Haunt’.

“Your father’s…haunt?” Bruce repeated slowly.

“A Haunt is a ghost’s…home base,” Damian explained, carefully picking his words to be understandable to the vigilantes, “Father died in this city, a common component of a Haunt. A ghost’s Haunt is somewhere they are most powerful. Haunts are to be protected as well; Father is odd in that he allows free passage for others in and out of his Haunt as long as they harm none.”

“Why do I feel drugged?” Jason asked almost dazedly.

Damian narrowed in on him, “Elaborate.”

“I feel…calm. Sedated. Not completely. I can still think and stuff but the Pit’s gone…quiet.”

“Oh,” Damian blinked, “that may be due to the high amount of uncorrupted ectoplasm in the atmosphere. Let me call Doctor Frostbite.”

He whipped out a phone, dialed, and began speaking to someone; almost five minutes later, a portal opened up.

None of the native Amity Parkers gave it a second glance, even as Yeti came out and collected Jason and Cassandra.

Damian explained, “They will be cleansed of this ‘Pit’s’ influence; tainted ectoplasm like that is dangerous. They will be returned by sundown today.”

“Who is Doctor Frostbite?” Bruce rumbled.

“Father’s own physician, an expert in corrupted and uncorrupted ectoplasm,” Damian explained more, “the Royal Physician, well, one of them.”

The group began walking again even as Duke asked, “One of them?”

“Father and Mother keep a staff of human doctors as well as Doctor Frostbite’s own team,” Damian explained simply, “because most of the family is still mostly human. Mother in particular keeps an OBGYN on call for herself, Danielle, and Dawn.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Dick nodded.

“I have both access to Doctor Frostbite and a human pediatrician. I see both regularly,” Damian added, “same as my siblings. We also have a magical healer on staff, from Harry and Neville’s dimension. One who is the equivalent to a pediatrician.”

He was leading them to a burger joint, named, of all things, ‘The Nasty Burger’.

“No trip, by tourists, to Amity Park is complete without partaking of Nasty Burger,” Damian said, “Father, Mother, and Uncle Tucker would eat here often as children and teenagers. Even now, they will order in if they so choose.”

“Nasty Burger?”

“It was originally the Tasty Burger,” Damian said as they entered the establishment.

Damian led them to the counter and ordered what had to be some sort of trademark Nasty Burger meal.

A burger with a thick patty dripping in sauce and juice, the buns were soaked, topped with onions, pickles, cheese, and ketchup and mustard.

Large fries with dipping sauce, the same sauce used on the burger; a milkshake so thick it was basically ice cream.

Damian ordered a salad for himself.

They crammed into a booth and the Waynes eyed the…was it actually food?

Then Tim took the leap of faith and took a bite of his burger.

“Oh. My. God,” the teen mumbled with a full mouth, “It’s…Good?!”

He swallowed and told his family, “Try it! It’s so good!”

“Be warned,” Damian said mildly, eating his salad, “the sauce can be used as an explosive.”

“What?”

“Yes, the sauce is rather unstable and when introduced to flame can combust with some energy. Mother bought the restaurant to institute better safety protocols for the storage of the sauce and its’ components. There was an…incident before Father took the throne, with the sauce vats potentially exploding and killing several people. Father prevented it but Mother was not best pleased. So she asked her parents to purchase the restaurant. They did so.”

“Holy shit.” Stephanie whispered, looking at her meal with wide eyes.

“It is deemed safe for human consumption,” Damian added casually.

Tim snorted and continued eating.

Slowly, the other Waynes did so as well, each finding the burger delicious.

After lunch, Damian led them to FentonWorks and let them gape at the building before leading them inside.

Where they were met by the elder Fentons.

“Damian!” the large man scooped the boy up, “How’re you, my boy?”

“Hello, Grandfather,” Damian replied, “I’m quite fine. I’d like to introduce the Waynes. Waynes, my paternal grandparents, Jack and Maddie Fenton.”

Bruce smiled and reached out a hand, shaking hands with Jack then Maddie, “Pleasure to see you again, I’m Damian’s biological father, Bruce. We met at his birthday party?”

“Oh! Of course!” Maddie smiled, “Sorry, that was a busy day. Please, call us Maddie and Jack.”

The Waynes sounded off with their names before Dick said, “There’s two more of us. Jason and Cass, but they were taken by Yeti for…medical treatments?”

Maddie nodded understandingly, “If they were taken, they must have needed it. Frostbite is foremost a medical expert after all.”

Bruce explained the Pit while his children milled around; the Fentons were aghast.

The Fentons led everyone down to the lab, with Jack saying, “These Lazarus Pits definitely sound like corrupted ectoplasm.”

Maddie pulled a vial of a familiar green substance, opened it and poured it into a bowl while explaining, “This’s healthy, uncorrupted ectoplasm—straight from Danny himself.”

The ectoplasm was thick like stew broth, not watery like the Pits. It also had a healthy green shine, not a yellowish-green glow nor did it give off vapors or steam like the Pits.

“Fuck.” Dick said and was not reprimanded as the Bats, for they had all shifted into vigilante mode even without their suits, stared at the sample in horrified fascination.

Exactly what had Jason and Cass been subjected to?

“Frostbite will have them sorted,” Jack promised after Tim reported Jason’s Pit swim and subsequent symptoms, “Jason shouldn’t have anymore mood swings. He still will be Liminal—” then Jack went on to explain exactly what that meant and what could come of it.

“King Phantom says Jason could’ve become half-ghost,” Duke spoke up, “do you know why he didn’t?”

“Halfas—half-ghosts—are exceedingly rare,” Maddie replied, “only three are known to exist, none of them natural and one was cloned from another. Likely, Jason died completely and then, uh, resurrected before his little swim. You need to be exposed to large amounts of ectoplasm at time of death to have a chance to become a halfa. If he was alive at his Pit use then it wouldn’t’ve, uh, mutated his DNA like a halfa’s.”

“Likely, this Ra’s fellow is also extremely Liminal,” Jack added, hugging his grandson before placing him on a shoulder, “but also not a true halfa. He would have exposed his nature at some point due to sheer frustration or arrogance. Halfas also have the potential to be truly immortal—Danny’s proven very hard to kill in either form—so if he knew he wouldn’t’ve made the Deal that gave us Damian.”

“We do know that Liminals—especially high content Liminals, like Jason—have a better chance at rising as true ghosts upon death,” Maddie nodded.

“I am certain Father will take Jason in should he become a ghost upon death,” Damian assured, “he will not leave family to flounder.”

“No, I will not,” Danny came down the stairs, leading Cass and Jason who both seemed…healthier. Steadier.

“I feel fuckin’ fantastic!” Jason announced with a grin as Cass shot a thumbs up in agreement.

Bruce demanded a debrief about what happened.

“It was like dialysis, B,” Jason explained, “They hooked up us to machines and filtered the Pit out. When that was done, we weren’t doing too good, me more than Cass, so the King had us dunked in his Healing Pools.”

“They’re the uncorrupted form of your Pits,” Danny explained, “putting them in replaced the Pit water in their systems and brought them back to full health. Frostbite thinks the Pit was binding something in Jason together and that removing it was undoing what little good it was doing. Cass was a little better without the water but still not a hundred percent.”

Bruce pulled his two Lazarus-touched children into a hug, horrified and yet grateful.

Chapter Text

Summers Meets Summers:

Danny stepped through the portal, arms cradling a baby.

“Uncle Danny?” Dawn started.

“Dawn, this isn’t for you,” Danny assured, before looking to the assembled Scoobies, “Scoobies, meet Hope Summers—well, that’s an alias. It’s not safe for her in her dimension.”

“Wait, Summers,” Xander said slowly, eyes wide, “like X-men Summers? Mutant Summers?”

“She’s supposedly the mutant messiah,” Danny said in hushed tones, “every anti-mutant asshole’s after her. Clockwork pulled her right after her family was decimated because of those assholes. Me and Sam would take her on but we’ve already got Anakin.”

“We’ll pass her off as a cousin,” Buffy declared after a quick silent conversation with Spike, “family problems. Me and Dawn are her only other family. Xander, we need your comic knowledge. Giles, Anya, Willow, Tara, your magic knowhow. Danny—Your Majesty—”

“I’ll be point of contact for her dimension, and I’ll fund her stay here,” Danny interjected.

Another portal opened and a stream of ghosts came flowing out; they were carting baby gear.

Danny smiled widely at everyone’s shock, “We weren’t just gonna hand you a baby and run. Everything you need, you just need to buy the formula, diapers, and such. Come here, Buffy.”

Buffy took Hope carefully; she had held babies before, mostly Phantom children, but never one so…young.

Then she blanched, “Holy hell, Spike! We have a kid now!”

The vampire went bone white.

“Congrats,” Danny said, grinning widely and with too many teeth to pass as human.

“You’re sure you cannot rear her yourself?” Giles asked.

Danny shook his head, “No, we have…Anakin might be subject to a Prophecy about being the Chosen One, Harry and Nev have a prophecy about either one being a Chosen One, Adrien is a Chosen One…in fact, only Damian doesn’t have some prophecy attached. That we know of. Even Dawn was gonna end the world. Plus Hope’s gonna be powerful; I don’t know how powerful but she will be powerful. We can’t risk her being ecto-contaminated either.”

“Damn,” Xander muttered.

“We’d take her in,” Danny assured, “if we could; but we really can’t.”

“What if the placement falls through?” Anya asked.

“Then we ask Damian’s bio-father to either take her or help place her in his dimension. If he can’t help, either the Potters or Longbottoms take her, if not them then the Fenton-Chengs, my eldest son and his wife. You’re our first choice but not last resort. You were chosen because we hope the Hellmouth will help hide her. Pass her off as demon-touched or something once her powers start coming in. We hope there’s enough of a…a gulf between the two dimensions that nothing from hers can come after her.”

“We’ll take care of her.” Buffy promised.

Chapter Text

From Only Child to Big (and Little) Brother:

“I’m a big brother?” Adrien whispered in awe and a little fear as he saw the child of the King and his fiancée.

Sam smiled, “if you want to be,” she replied, “his name’s Damian and he was…Wished Away to us too.”

Damian was a baby, not a newborn but not a toddler either; he could hold his head up and make noise but it was only nonsense babble.

Sam held him a little higher and said, “Damian, this’s Adrien.”

Damian babbled something.

Adrien knelt down, “Hi, Damian,” he said softly.

“You’re also a little brother now,” another voice said and Adrien looked up to see a girl that looked startlingly like the King.

“Hi, I’m Danielle, Dani with an ‘i’,” Dani greeted, “your new big sister.”

Adrien blinked and then beamed.

He had always wanted siblings.

Which’s why as the family grew, he accepted everyone. He did his best as a big brother. Plagg helped.

When Dawn arrived, accidentally sold, he did not hesitate when his Papa asked him to help with the Hellgod after her. She was his sister, she was to be helped.

His little brothers, Harry and Neville, were also to be protected and he did a lot of babysitting while his parents hunted down the Horcruxes they could. He was also sworn to secrecy on who would’ve been the Chosen One. They were children, not soldiers or weapons or heroes to save the day.

(Adrien loved being Chat, he loved helping people, helping his Lady, but his therapist had a point that no child, not even the King, should have to bear such burdens. He did so now, so he would have to do his best, but he should have never been Chosen. No child should be Chosen.)

Sammy and Dean came along and Adrien wanted to commit murder. They had been sold just like him; by their biological father for something. Sold for revenge.

Sammy and Dean were the last for awhile, a couple years at least, and Adrien loved all his siblings.

Then came Anakin, Wished Away into Freedom, and Adrien knew the films, knew what could happen but he loved his little brother fiercely, just as fiercely as the rest. Anakin was not Vader yet and even if Adrien had to Cataclysm Darth Sidious himself Anakin never would be the Sith Lord’s attack dog.

InuYasha was next and he was a change; guarded, having been abused not by his parents but by everyone else. Adrien found it difficult to get through to his silver-haired brother but finally did so, using the bridge Anakin had built just by being himself. He often took InuYasha out on runs around Paris’ rooftops, letting the boy stretch himself and relying on being Chat in order to keep up.

(He was only human after all.)

Then came Paige, after he had had his own children, and his heart ached for her biological parents. They had done what was best for her and he could never think badly of that. Knowing what he would do for his own children…

Then came Davy; like everyone else in the family, Adrien was caught by surprise. He had known his parents had been deaged for more attempts but apparently no one, not even his Mama, had known of her pregnancy.

Being the youngest by far, of all the children, Davy was a little spoiled for attention and yet effectively an only child. But his siblings, niblings, and cousins adored him just like everyone else.

Chapter Text

Code Iron Throne:

“Damian, what are you doing here? Is that Anakin?” Dick quickly grabbed the toddler and settled him on a hip.

Damian wasn’t scheduled for a visit for a few more days.

“Father’s archnemesis has returned,” Damian replied, eyes wild and darting around even as he spoke, “and is attempting to gain the throne. Father has disseminated the family through the dimensions for our safety.”

“Fuck,” Dick said before racing to an intercom and shouting through it, “Code Iron Throne! CODE IRON THRONE! Damian and Anakin have been given to us for safekeeping because a CODE IRON THRONE IS IN PROGRESS!”

“Copy that.” Came a fast reply, “RR in cave, initiating complete magical lockdown NOW.”

The Manor faintly buzzed even as Waynes arrived and chivvied their guests to the cave.

Jason took Anakin from Dick and kept the toddler calm.

“Damian, report,” Bruce ordered once they were secured in the cave.

“Vlad Plasmius has returned to our Earth and is making an attempt for the throne,” Damian reported, “Plasmius is the oldest known half-ghost in existence and has many of the same abilities as Father. Father has dispersed the family through the dimensions for our safety. He sent Anakin with me in hopes that someone can help control his abilities if the worst outcome passes. Harry and Neville are with their parents, Sammy and Dean went with Danielle to visit Jenny, the Doctor’s Daughter and are now under the protection of the Bad Wolf, Adrien is in his dimension, and Dawn remains in her dimension.”

He paused, “We apologize for any disru—”

“Damian, you, and your siblings, are always welcome in my home at any time for any reason,” Bruce rumbled, “and this is an emergency.”

“Yeah, your dad wouldn’t just shove you through a portal for no reason,” Stephanie added with a strained smile as she took a turn entertaining Anakin.

The next few days were tense as the Wayne family had to keep up appearances and yet remain on guard.

Damian assured them he would know if his father fell because his contract would transfer to Plasmius, which didn’t inspire much joy, and Plasmius would no doubt act as Pariah Dark would have.

And enslave the souls, at best.

A week went by.

Two.

Three.

A Month.

And then a portal opened in the Manor and Danny came through, scooping up his sons.

“Father? Have you prevailed?” Damian asked, muffled by his father’s chest.

“Yeah. Yeah. It was,” Danny gulped, “it was close. That why it’s taken so long. I was healing. But, he’s gone. Vlad’s dead, for good. I…I shattered his core.”

Damian gasped and hugged his father tighter.

“What do you mean ‘shattered his core’?” Bruce questioned.

“It means I erased him from existence, no more Vlad. Ever. In any Realm or dimension or afterlife,” Danny explained shakily, hugging his boys, “I’ve never shattered someone before but he…started talking about the kids and Sam and I just got so…angry. He was trying to shatter me too.”

And the Waynes remained silent at that; silent but horrified by just how close they had come to losing the King, Damian’s father.

“I’ll be talking to my therapist about it,” Danny assured, closing his eyes, “because I promised myself that I’d never shatter someone. But I will do anything to protect my family.”

He stood up, carrying the boys, one on each hip even though Damian was nearing his teen years, “Thank you for looking after them—I can feel the wards, they would’ve kept Vlad busy ‘til you could get help—and I’m so sorry for just dropping them—"

“As I told Damian, he and his siblings are always welcomed here,” Bruce interrupted, “no matter the reason or time. We thank you for trusting us so much.”

Danny nodded and the trio said their goodbyes before leaving through the portal.

Bruce ran a hand through his slowly graying hair, chuckling, “I tell you what though, I don’t think my heart can take another round of Iron Throne.”

His children and Alfred agreed.

Chapter Text

Planning for the School Year:

“Miss Woods, Mister Jett,” Sam greeted the teachers, “this’s Ben Noble. Real name, Obi-Wan Kenobi. He’s from Anakin’s original dimension and is his teacher in the Force. Obi-wan, Miss Amelia Woods is Anakin’s current teacher and Mister Kevin Jett will be his teacher next school year.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Obi-wan—who was dressed to blend in—bowed slightly.

“You’re really a Jedi?” Jett asked, awed, “The Obi-wan Kenobi?”

Obi-wan chuckled, using the Force to lift a chair before igniting his lightsaber and going through some katas.

“You can see why he’s using an assumed name,” Sam said as Obi-wan re-holstered his ‘saber.

Jett nodded before becoming professional, “Is Anakin safe for other children, non-powered children, to be around?”

“Oh yes, his training is coming along splendidly, and he has utmost control for his age and education level,” Obi-wan assured before admitting, “though we must thank his previous teachers of his power. They laid much of the groundwork.”

Jett nodded again, “Does he need to meditate during the day or anything? I have a Muslim student that prays so I can let him meditate easily.”

“Only if he becomes overwhelmed,” Sam replied, “he knows when to meditate. He usually does it before school anyways. To center himself for the day.”

Jett began taking notes, “Alright, does he have any enhanced senses? He is baseline human right?”

“As far as we can tell,” Sam agreed, “no enhanced senses…InuYasha on the other hand…”

“Right,” Jett nodded yet again, “he’s half dog, right?”

“Dog ears and all, he’s half-Inuyoukai. That’s a Japanese dog spirit,” Sam explained, “but he speaks English, and era appropriate Japanese. He perfectly safe but he does have enhanced senses relating to his youkai blood. And claws. He doesn’t like shoes so he will take them off at any opportunity. We think it’s something to do with the claws on his toes. High and low temperatures don’t easily get to him anyways.”

“Can he wear sandals?” Jett asked, interested.

“He prefers them over closed toe shoes,” Sam nodded, “but can’t stand socks.”

“Sandals will work,” Jett decided, “he’ll have to wear shoes, but I’ll fight for his right to wear sandals. You say he has claws? Can he write with them? Or will I need to help trim them down?”

“He can write English and we’re working on Japanese, it’s not the best handwriting but it’s legible. He works better with an ink brush than a pen or pencil. Right now, his tutors have been having him type up assignments on a typewriter.”

“We can do that,” Jett agreed, “any reason why he doesn’t use computers?”

“Too strong.”

“Ah. Well, if you pay for the typewriter, I can have one installed in the classroom.”

“Deal.”

“Do Anakin and InuYasha get along well?” was Jett’s next question.

“Sometimes too well,” Sam replied tiredly, as Obi-wan snickered, “we call them our twins for a reason, Mister Jett. Anakin’s the leader though; InuYasha’s still too shy to start stuff. They usually won’t start trouble but if Anakin decides on a cause he thinks is just he’ll drag his brother along for the ride.”

“Oh dear, is it wise to have them in the same class?” Woods spoke up.

“’Yasha has severe anxiety around humans,” Sam explained, “because of how he and his birthmother were treated. Anakin’s good at keeping him calm. It’s not the best idea but for ‘Yasha’s first year in school…”

“I see what you’re getting at,” Jett agreed.

“We’re hoping to separate them the year after next,” Sam assured, “we don’t want them codependent on each other. But for now, we need to figure a way to get ‘Yasha comfortable.”

The teachers, Obi-wan included, agreed with their reasoning.

Chapter Text

InuYasha's School Years:

InuYasha followed Anakin through the school, covered ears swiveling to catch every sound and catalogue whether they were dangerous, hands clenching tight the straps of his backpack.

The other students stopped to stare at his golden eyes and silver hair; it was annoying.

“Ignore them,” Anakin said lowly.

They came to their new classroom and their teacher was waiting to greet all his new students. He was crouching by the door to be eye-level with his students.

“Anakin and InuYasha, I assume?” he greeted with a friendly smile, “I’m Mister Jett, welcome to the fourth grade. Go in and find a seat, we’ll start once everyone’s here.”

Anakin led the way and the two boys took desks near each other, separated by an aisle.

They weren’t the first in the class but still had their pick of seats.

Slowly, the class filled and Mister Jett shut the door after the last stragglers and moved to the whiteboard.

He greeted the class before writing his name on the whiteboard, “My name’s Mister Jett—J-E-T-T.”

The rest of the day went rather smoothly; Mister Jett was gentle and understanding with all his students and didn’t single out InuYasha for not being all human or not having been to school before.

He did not make the boy take off his bandana, technically against dress code, or fuss about his sandals, also against dress code, nor point out his claws, which had been trimmed down for the school day.

That didn’t mean the other students took his…unique appearance in stride; there were whisperings and staring behind his back.

And he heard every word too.

The teachers were, at least, vigilant about any hint of bullying and took their students to task about such actions and made it very clear that bullying or even rumormongering was not acceptable.

InuYasha was quite pleased when the day was over.

But, it became easier as the days went on; InuYasha became comfortable enough, months in, with his classmates to take off his bandana and show his ears.

He made friends outside of Anakin as well, ones who accepted him as he was.

Anakin was proud of his brother; the entire family was proud of him.

InuYasha was never a social butterfly, but his school years weren’t lonely. He joined several clubs and even a committee or two, becoming comfortable with leadership roles and supporting roles.

He wasn’t allowed on any sports’ teams though; simply due to his abilities.

But that was okay.

And when he had graduated, mostly an adult, and found a lonely priestess, he would extend the same hand of friendship once extended to him.

If only he had known that would be his downfall.

Chapter Text

Happy Birthday Uncle Tucker (or, too many bakers and too many cakes):

“Mari,” Adrien burst into bakery, “Marinette—Oh, hello Missus Dupain-Cheng, Mister Dupain-Cheng—Mari! I need you to teach me to bake a cake!”

“Okay, any particular reason why?” Marinette took this demand calmly, knowing he had a good reason.

“Uncle Tucker’s birthday’s coming up and I don’t know what else to get him,” Adrien explained even as the Dupain-Chengs leapt into action.

“Oh, a birthday cake—what about—”

As they worked to gather everything needed, Marinette peppered him with gentle questions and flavor and style and what looked best and what Uncle Tucker liked.

Adrien proved…adequate in the kitchen under the gentle but firm guidance of the bakers and His Lady and the results, while not exactly noteworthy, were also adequate and certainly heartfelt. Over the next few days he would practice at home in his own apartment and would serve his masterpiece himself when the time came.

Little did Adrien know someone else had the same idea; several someones actually.

“Alfred, I request you teach me how to bake a birthday cake,” Damian walked into the smaller, more personal Wayne kitchen, “it is Uncle Tucker’s birthday soon and I wish to surprise him.”

“Very well, young Master,” Alfred nodded, preparing the items needed, “tell me more of your Uncle, please.”

“Uncle Tucker is like a second father to me,” Damian began, moving as gently directed, “he has reared me alongside Father and Mother though he has no legal claim on me either on Earth or in the Realms. He is a near technopath with his technology skills and likes—”

And so, Damian extolled the virtues of his uncle as the two worked, Alfred learning much more about the boy’s early life; this Tucker fellow was a decent sort for helping so much with a baby and it was clear Damian adored him.

Damian proved a dab hand at baking but would continue to practice with the palace kitchen staff until the big day where he would unveil his masterpiece. Alongside his brothers’.

Harry and Neville had also had the same idea, asking a house-elf to teach them to bake and then Lily to teach them how to bake without using magic.

By the time Tucker’s birthday came around he had five different cakes to eat, one being the official Royal one afforded to the Royals’ families.

The look on the boys’ faces at the sight of each other’s cakes caused their uncle to break down laughing but he thanked each one and sampled each one.

All of them were delicious.

Though there were plenty of leftovers.

Chapter Text

Anakin Almost Goes Sith:

Anakin jumped down and, without raising a hand, had the wolf demon in the air and dangling by his throat.

Kouga scrabbled at the thin air around his throat, eyes going wide as his air dwindled.

“You killed my brother,” Anakin snarled, eyes burning with tears and something else; there were golden flecks in his blue eyes and only Kagome knew what that meant.

She scrambled down to the two men, “Anakin! Ankin stop! You’re going Dark!”

“Stay outta this, Kagome,” Anakin hissed, seethed as his power rolled and rocked in the atmosphere around them, causing a sensation not unlike an unsteady boat as ears popped from the pressure changes.

“Anakin, InuYasha wouldn’t want you to go Sith!” she argued, starting to collect her on power to steady herself. But she was an ant compared to Anakin.

“He’s dead!” Anakin at least released Kouga, tossing him to the ground hard enough to cause a small crater.

He used the Force to hold him down.

“And if you go Sith you’ll be as good as dead,” Kagome said softly, ignoring her own heartbreak of InuYasha’s death.

She had to save his brother. She knew the movies. Anakin going Sith, even for a moment, even in revenge for a loved one, was a bad idea.

InuYasha would want him saved.

“Let him go, Anakin.” she ordered calmly, firmly.

She was a priestess; she stopped dark beings and creatures; she would stop him.

It was silent, a deafening silence that echoed, only broken by Kouga’s pained wheezing as he struggled for breath under the force of the Force.

Anakin glared at her; she calmly stared back, thanking the gods he couldn’t hear her thundering pulse.

She was trying to stare down the start of Darth Vader, after all.

Kouga gasped as the Force bore down on him, driving him deeper into the dirt, before the pressure suddenly disappeared. Then he howled in agony as the shards in his leg and arm were yanked from him roughly.

They floated over to Kagome.

“Go!” Anakin bellowed, “Leave my sight, Kouga of the Wolves! If I ever see you again I’ll wipe your tribe out!”

And Kouga was many things but he wasn’t stupid; he got up and ran away.

He had avenged his people anyways.

There was still a standoff, between Force-user and Priestess.

Their powers clashed and flashed against each other, even as they themselves stood still.

Then a voice, “Urgh…Kagome, knock it off. Yer gonna fry Shippo.”

The stalemate broke as both rushed to the waking, alive, hanyou.

“InuYasha!” everyone cried at once, the rest of the pack joining the three.

He staggered up into a sitting position, his arm hanging useless at his side, “Takes a little more than some flea-bitten wolf to kill me.”

“Hang on,” Anakin fumbled for his comm and called it in; immediately a portal opened and medical came rushing out with a stretcher.

Shippo was the one who had the forethought to grab the shards even as everyone went through the portal; he was the last one in, clutching the three shards in his hands even though one felt…wrong, even to his youkai senses.

InuYasha was bathed in the Healing Pools as several bones had been shattered and there was no time to let him heal naturally.

And Anakin went back to therapy; though he thanked and then congratulated Kagome for standing up to him and saving Kouga’s life. He knew he was a powerhouse in the Force, being, in theory, half-Force; even seasoned Jedi had trouble standing up to him with their own abilities.

Kagome had a breakdown; she had gone against Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader, and lived to tell the tale.

The rest of the pack was treated to movie night, to explain why Kagome was having her breakdown.

Chapter Text

Anakin the Trophy Husband:

Being a Senator’s husband, being Padme’s husband was Anakin’s true calling.

Growing up in the ghostly Court meant he was well versed in the backstabbing and such one would find in politics of any dimension.

He portrayed himself something like Uncle Bruce’s public persona; pretty, occasionally brilliant, but mostly airheaded with a keen interest in charity.

His Grandmother Pam once laughingly called him a trophy husband; once the term was explained, he decided that would be his public face.

Senator Naberries’ devoted and rather dim husband who she treated somewhat like a pampered pet.

As far as anyone knew she dictated everything he did with a gentle yet firm hand and a much cleverer mind.

And Anakin loved it, loved hanging off her arm, as smitten as the day they first met, dressed in pretty things that matched Padme’s pretty things tastefully. Loved dancing and smiling and laughing with her over ridiculous things.

However, he also had a purpose; he was her first line of defense, even though she could and would defend herself. Whether that be with the Force or with oblique but snide comments to her enemies and naysayers, he was ready to protect, to defend.

He listened with a vacate but charming expression on his face and reported his findings after they were home safe. He charmed diplomats and other senators when she couldn’t.

Then the twins came along and the public saw another, altogether even more charming side of Anakin Naberrie-Skywalker.

The devoted father, who adored his children just as much as he adored his wife; whether it was candid shots of him at home with the children or paparazzi pictures of them in public.

He was hands-on and involved in his children’s lives; though some pundits mocked him for it, he didn’t care.

He was a loving husband to a wonderful woman and a caring father to two amazing children and that was that.

Chapter Text

The War is Over:

“You have captured Voldemort?” Dumbledore asked, rather shocked.

“Yes, Tom Marvolo Riddle has been captured as have all his Horcruxes,” Danny said patiently, “he is waiting for trial in the Realms, for perverting the soul and the Balance.”

He pulled a coin from his pocket and said, “Harry, heads or tails.”

“Heads,” the boy decided.

Danny flipped the coin, “Heads it is.”

Then he became very serious, more serious than anyone had ever seen him before.

This was not their uncle, who treated them like his own, this was the King of the Infinite Realms.

“Harry James Potter-Phantom,” the King intoned, eyes burning green even in his human body, “do you agree that Tom Marvolo Riddle, elsewise known as Voldemort, will be executed and then shattered should he be found guilty of perverting his own soul and the Balance?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Harry nodded.

The King asked the same question of Neville who also agreed.

Dumbledore leaned back, stroking his beard, “The Power He Knows Not.”

“Whichever one is the prophecy child,” the King smiled inhumanly, a jagged thing with too many teeth tearing his mortal face in half, “each has the Ghost King in their back pocket. The Arbiter of Balance. Something Riddle tried to…upset. And he managed it too, for a few years.”

The smile became crueler, “I don’t like cheaters.”

“So, it’s over?” Frank asked hopefully, hugging his wife to his side.

“It will be once I dispense Justice,” the King promised almost kindly.

Then he became just Danny again, “And you’re all welcome to speak to one of my therapists as you adjust to post-war life. In fact, I insist on it.”

There was a sudden change in the room’s atmosphere, like someone had pricked a balloon full of tension and it exploded into sudden relaxation.

Several people collapsed to their knees in relief.

It was over.

It was finally, finally over.

Chapter Text

Mutant Power Manifest Differently on the Hellmouth:

“Are we sure she’s supposed ta be the second coming?” Spike asked reasonably.

Little Hope was now crawling and babbling and yet had yet to show any powers.

She was loved and adored by her family, but they were starting to be a little concerned.

Xander shook his head, “Her power’s mainly copying other mutant powers. No mutants, no powers. G-man, is she showing Slayer-ness?”

“You think she may copy Buffy’s abilities,” Giles considered it, seeing the wisdom in the hypothesis, “sadly, I have never worked with a Potential so young and if there was ever an actual Slayer so young, they would have been…disposed of rather quickly by the Council.”

“Can’t send a snack against the forces of evil,” Spike agreed, picking up his daughter.

“A…snack? Spike!” Willow scolded.

But even Xander snorted, “He’s right, Wills, that’s all babies are to vamps, aren’t they? Packed lunch!”

Anything else was cut off because Hope chose that movement to coo and then sprout a vampire’s face in miniature, bumps and fangs and all.

Though her eyes were rather green, instead of actually amber or golden.

“Did—did she just…copy from Spike?” Tara asked, moving closer.

“Still has a heartbeat,” Spike noted, “still smells the same…just extra demonic added in like spice or something.”

“My word,” Giles breathed, “how extraordinary. Quickly, hand her to Xander.”

Spike did as bid and Xander took his niece; Hope cooed again and lost the game face.

“So she can copy abilities,” Anya voiced, “not just…mutant ones.”

Xander passed Hope off to Willow; the baby cooed again, this time almost giggle like, and colorful lights danced around her head.

“She…pulled on my magic,” Willow gasped, “it felt like when I do a spell, but I wasn’t doing it!”

The older redhead dismissed the lights.

“What’s going on?” Buffy entered the house, setting down her bags.

“Hope’s showing her mutant power,” Xander explained, “so far she’s copied Spike’s game face, me being normal, and used Willow’s magic-ness.”

“Thought she was supposed to only copy other mutants,” Buffy replied, puzzled and worried but not overly upset, “she had a game face?”

“An’ a heartbeat,” Spike confirmed, nodding, “absolutely normal aside from the face. Bumpies an’ fangs.”

“She doesn’t have human teeth,” Buffy pointed out, fascinated in a way. Hope’s teeth were late coming in but they had been assured that was okay. Possibly due to her being a mutant but okay.

“Yeah, well, she had fangs. Surprised she didn’t try bitin’,” Spike replied, “didn’t seem or smell like she was in pain so,” he shrugged.

“Huh.”

Chapter Text

Danielle's First Birthday:

Surprise!”

Danielle took one look at the party and burst into tears.

They had a party for her, to celebrate her. The fact that she existed and had done so for an entire year so far.

Her parents were automatically hugging her, shushing her, and rocking her between them.

Apologizing for doing something that made her cry and she could only cry harder.

“I—I thought I was only a responsibility to you,” she explained through her tears, “something you had to take care of.”

Her father picked her up, running a hand through her hair as her mother spoke, “Oh, baby, you’re more than a responsibility. We love you, sweetheart. We’re glad you exist and are with us. We don’t blame you for what Vlad did, and we never have. You’re our daughter and you always will be, so of course we want you to have birthdays like everyone else. We want you to have everything every other girl gets to have.”

“Vlad was wrong, Danielle. He was so very wrong,” said Danny, “he wanted a perfect kid, and he got one, but he was stupid enough to throw you away.”

And Danielle could only cry in gratitude and happiness and relief that she wasn’t a burden, that they actually wanted her.

They took her to her bedroom so she could calm down, murmuring reassurances and affirmations that she was wanted.

Unplanned, a total surprise, but wanted all the same.

Once she had cried all her tears, Danielle had a fantastic first birthday.

And if her parents cried that night and vowed revenge for her, well, she didn’t have to know.

Chapter Text

Meeting Fluffy:

Neville started singing like a trained choir boy; the three headed dog’s eyes began drooping.

It was no song Hermione or Ron had ever heard, nor could they understand the words but both grief and relief welled in their chests, their throats and their eyes.

The three-headed dog was asleep and Harry ushered them from the room, pulling the still singing Neville along, and closed the door behind them heavily.

Neville collapsed, gasping for breath, “What in the Realms is a Cerberus doing in a school?”

“Guarding something,” Harry replied reasonably, “don’t ask me what though.”

“It was standing on a trapdoor,” Hermione said shakily, still crying, “what was that song? It was…beautiful but so sad!”

Harry, helping Neville to his feet, said, “A Song for the Dead and Forgotten. Uncle Danny makes sure everyone in the family knows at least one Song. Nev sings it better than I do. Good show, Nev.”

Neville shakily grinned, “Thanks Harry. But, Ancients, I never want to sing like that again.”

“Uncle Danny works with the dead,” Harry told Ron and Hermione, who looked about to burst with questions, even as they began making their way back to Gryffindor, “his family studies ghosts. A song for the dead tells them we still mourn them, that we know they once lived and we’re sad they’re gone. The Song for the Dead and Forgotten is for those without proper graves or families to mourn them.”

Ron inconspicuously wiped his eyes, “Hermione was right, mate. It was beautiful. Could be on the radio, you could Neville.”

Neville pinked but said nothing.

Later, Neville would sing the Song again in order to get past Fluffy the Cerberus and Dumbledore would give him five points for ‘a clever mind and beautiful voice under pressure’.

These five points would tip the scale and let Gryffindor win the House Cup.

Chapter Text

After Reading the Books:

“Thank you,”

The boys spoke together, as each hugged their aunt or uncle. They were grown men but clung like little boys again.

“We finally read the books,” Lily explained, wetly, at Danny’s and Sam’s confused looks.

Confusion became understanding.

“If anything had happened,” Sam explained lowly, hugging Harry tighter, “if anything had happened to everyone, we would’ve taken them. No questions asked. We would have had them out of your dimension so fast…They never would’ve gone to the Dursleys or Augusta. Even if that meant they never went to Hogwarts, we would’ve found tutors.”

“We’re just sorry we couldn’t stop everything,” Danny murmured.

“You stopped enough,” James assured, and all the wizards and witches nodded in agreement, “without you—a basilisk! Harry would’ve fought a bloody basilisk with only Fawkes as backup. Sirius would’ve been in Azkaban then dead!”

“Our boys would’ve been abused,” Alice said softly, trembling with unvented anger, “Neville would have been dropped from a window to prove he had magic. Believe you me, we’ll be keeping a close eye on dear Uncle Algie from now on. Him and Augusta. To say nothing of what Harry would’ve gone through!”

“And we now understand why you wouldn’t say who was Chosen, to anyone,” Frank nodded, “growing up knowing you had some great destiny to defeat some evil wizard. Thank you for not doing that to either of them.”

“We wanted them to be kids,” Danny replied, “kids who were loved and cherished and treated just like every other kid. Sam’s right, we would’ve pulled them if needed. We would’ve stepped in more if needed. Ancients, we would’ve given Sirius Sanctuary in the Realms if he had been framed. They’re—you’re all family now.”

“As soon as we agreed to the Deal,” Sam added, “we reread the books and rewatched the movies. We talked to Clockwork about the possible timelines. We did everything we could to get a handle on the situation. Even as we had the Horcruxes hunted down.”

“Thank you.”

Chapter Text

InuYasha's Missing Some Knowledge:

“He proposed,” Kagome explained shakily, “I said yes—”

“Then he bit you,” Sango nodded in understanding, still cleaning the wound, “It’s a Mating Bite. Some youkai will mark their mates. Probably did it instinctively then panicked. He was raised by humans, ghosts, and a vampire after all.”

“So he didn’t know. He just knew he hurt me.”

“Probably, poor guy’s really disconnected from youkai cultures.”

“This’s going to scar, isn’t it?”

“That’s the point. It’s permanent.”

Kagome sighed and shook her head slightly, feeling the skin around the bitemark on her neck pull warningly, “What do I tell my mom?”

“You’re not angry with him?” Miroku asked, surprised.

“A little bit,” she admitted, “but if Sango says he didn’t have any control, then I believe it. It’s how youkai…marry, isn’t it?”

“Mating’s for life with canine youkai,” Sango explained, “I’m not sure about hanyou and humans and how that works but mated pairs will be bonded for life in full youkai. It’s not uncommon for both to die either together or close together.”

“Papa only lived ‘cause of me,” Shippo spoke up solemnly, “Mama begged him to. But Papa wasn’t the same after Mama died.”

Kagome opened her arms to the little kitsune who took the offered cuddle.

“My mom wasn’t the same after my dad died either,” Kagome told Shippo softly, rocking him slightly, “I’m sorry it happened to your family too.”

She blinked up at the monk and the slayer, “If anything…anything happens to me and InuYasha—”

“Of course, Kagome,” Sango cut her off, “if his family doesn’t take any of your children, including Shippo, we’ll raise them.”

“Yes,” Miroku nodded, “even if you were not our friends, we still owe you a debt each.”

“And even if the Phantoms do take the kids? Could you offer to teach them what you know about their youkai cultures?”

“Yes, we will.”

“Thank you,” InuYasha had returned, looking highly embarrassed.

He knelt in front of Kagome, “I am so sorry I bit you like that. If I’d have known, I would have asked permission first.”

“Where did you go?” she asked.

“To Uncle Spike and Uncle Giles,” he admitted, “I was…scared, Kagome. That I was losing control of my youkai half and was trying to eat you or something—Shut up, monk.”

Miroku held up his hands in surrender but had a grin on his face.

“Uncle Spike said it sounded like a Claiming Bite and Uncle Giles agreed,” InuYasha continued, face flushing with embarrassment, “They said it was permanent; no divorce. Ancients, I’m so sorry!”

Kagome bit back the hurt, and her building panic attack, and thought rationally before asking, “Do you still want to marry me?”

“Yes!”

“Then it’s okay. We’ll figure things out.”

“Why didn’t your uncles warn you about Mating Bites?” Sango finished cleaning Kagome’s bite.

“They didn’t even think about it,” InuYasha shrugged, “Dad and Mom gave me the Talk, not them.”

“And your parents don’t know youkai customs,” Miroku nodded in understanding.

“Yup. They had a family friend explain Japanese customs as I grew up, so I wasn’t totally disconnected from my birthplace, but that’s humans again. Besides, the customs I was taught are more like Kagome’s time than this one. Plus the American, British, demonic, and ghost customs I grew up with…”

“You’re coming with me to explain all this to my mom,” Kagome said.

“Ah, shit.”

Chapter Text

Don't Bother the Ghost King (He's Tired):

“Stand down,” Red Hood barked through the comms, “stand down. I know who they’re Summoning. Red’s not in too much danger.”

“Who’re they Summoning?” Batman demanded.

“The Ghost King.”

Relieved and slightly hysterical giggles broke out amongst the Bats and Birds, quiet enough not to give away their positions but loud enough to be heard over comms.

The Summoning went through and the King unfurled into the ritual circle.

“What is it now?” Danny spoke tiredly; Anakin had regressed on his sleep schedule.

A cultist blinked, clear their throat, and spoke, “Oh Great and Terrible Ghost King—”

“Skip. To. The. Point.” Danny said testily.

Another cultist stepped up, “Look, man. We just want ya ta get rid of the Bats okay? They’re getting too nosy.”

“And why would I ‘get rid’ of some heroes?” Danny scoffed.

“We Summoned you and gave you a sacrifice,” said the casual cultist while the first sputtered.

“Sacr—Oh, hello Red Robin,” Danny floated down and undid the bindings holding the vigilante.

“Your Majesty,” Red Robin dipped his head briefly as he stood up.

“What.” Said a cultist.

“Does this mean I’m adopted now?” Red Robin asked casually. After all, this was how Damian was adopted, wasn’t it?

“No. Looks like they were offering your body so I could walk the mortal plane and infiltrate the Bats,” Danny shook his head, “not your soul. So you aren’t bound to me yet.”

“What.”

“Ah,” Red Robin nodded before Danny turned to the cult.

“Yeah, so the Bats are kinda my in-laws; so, no, I won’t be getting rid of them,” he raised a hand and the Bats swooped in.

Within minutes the cult was incapacitated.

“Your Majesty,” Batman rumbled in greeting.

“Batman, I think I can trust you guys with the cleanup, right? The Queen’s gonna kill me.”

“Yeah,” Nightwing spoke up as the Bats double-checked the restraints on the cultists, “we’ve got it, Your Majesty.”

“Thanks.”

A portal opened and Danny disappeared through it.

Chapter Text

The Death Day Party (Or, Not Nearly Anymore):

“Hermione, listen.”

Harry’s voice was firm, lecturing, something that made Hermione’s inner scholar itch to take notes.

“You mustn’t ask questions,” Harry explained, “it’s very…it’s a massively rude thing to ask certain questions of a ghost. Do not ask anyone how they died. Alright? Do not. It’s the ultimate do not with interacting with a ghost. If they tell you, that’s one thing but do not ask.”

“No questions, I understand,” she paused, “how do you know about this?”

“Uncle Danny works with ghosts, I told you,” Harry replied, “back when we met Fluffy? He works with the dead. His parents are ecto-biologists.”

Neville and Ron arrived then, cutting off her questions, with Neville saying, “McGonagall said it’s alright that we go. And Nick’s gonna have human food down there for us. You briefed Hermione on the rules?”

“We got sidetracked,” Harry admitted, “but she got the most important one.”

“What about Names?” Neville asked intently and Harry snapped his fingers.

“Ah, that’s right. Hermione, you do not Name a ghost their human name unless they give it to you first. Nick gives everyone his name so that’s okay. If they’re introduced by name by another ghost that’s okay. But if you recognize them from like a history book? You keep your mouth shut. Some ghosts are so cut off from their human lives they bury their Names.” Harry instructed and Hermione nodded.

“Warming charms, everyone,” Neville insisted as he performed the charms on his friends, his brother, and himself, “it’s likely freezing down there.”

After everyone was charmed, they trooped down to the party.

“Harry, Neville, Ron, Hermione, thank you for coming,” Nick greeted them solemnly.

“Our condolences, Sir Nicholas,” Harry replied just as gravely, as gravely as his twelve-year-old boy’s voice could manage.

“Thank you,” the ghost repeated, before directing them to a table in a corner, “The Kitchens prepared hot chocolate and dinner for you. Please, partake in what you will.”

“Thank you, Sir Nicholas,” Hermione said, curtsying.

“And, please, feel free to mingle. Nobody will hurt you here,” Nick gave a significant look to Harry and Neville who both nodded.

So the children did so.

The ghosts seemed amused they had living children amongst them and were rather indulgent, several regaling the children with their afterlife stories.

Hermione soaked up all the information though behaved herself by not asking certain questions.

Ron met several former Quidditch players and even got into a game of chess with a nun from Kent who rather soundly beat him, but he was enjoying himself too much to care.

Harry and Neville made the rounds, Nick introducing them to every ghost; each ghost knew instinctively just who they were and who they belonged to and so most treated them akin to royalty until they insisted rather firmly they be treated like regular humans.

Or regular Liminals.

Thankfully only Hermione noticed the odd behavior but chalked it up to something she shouldn’t ask about.

Then the Headless Hunt arrived and began mocking Sir Nicholas for merely being ‘nearly’ headless.

Hidden, Harry made a complicated hand gesture; a portal to the Realms opened.

Out flew the King; every ghost bowed and the children followed their lead.

“Who called on me?” the King questioned, floating in full regalia, before alighting on Nick.

“Ah. Sir Nicholas Mimsy de Porpington? It’s your Death Day today, is it not?”

“It is, Your Majesty,” Nick sounded strangled, awed that his king knew his death-date.

“My condolences, my good sir,” the King said before turning to the Headless Hunt.

The tongue-lashing he gave those ghosts was something to behold as he accused them of mocking the ‘Great and Noble Wild Hunt’, claiming to act in His Name without His sanction.

By the end, several ghosts had fled the scene, unwilling to deal with the King’s anger.

Then he turned back to Nick and spoke, “Nicholas Mimsy de Porpington, I find myself in need of a true knight in this dimension. Rise.”

Whispers began as Nick stood up and the King summoned his sword.

“I now decree you a Knight of the Infinite Realms,” The King declared before fully decapitating the formerly nearly headless ghost, “I appoint you to watch over this school of Witchcraft and Wizardry and aid the living in any way possible.”

The newly re-Knighted Nick held his head and, silvery tears of joy falling down his translucent cheeks, accepted his new assignment.

Everyone was dismissed, children included, so the king could further instruct his new knight in privacy.

He took Nick back to the Realms to be outfitted and inspected by the Fright Knight.

So they weren’t present when the children stumbled onto a crime scene.

Chapter Text

How to Handle A Teleporting Baby:

“Holy shit,” Tucker shouted as his niece disappeared from his arms in a shower of blue and white lights.

And she really was gone, not just invisible or intangible.

Seconds later his phone lit up; Sam was calling.

“Please tell me you have her,” he greeted in a rather high-pitched voice.

“We have her,” Sam confirmed, “what just happened?”

“I think she teleported or something,” Tucker calmed slowly, adrenaline leaving his system, “one second I was holding her and then—twinkle, twinkle, she was gone!”

“Same here, thank the Ancients for Danny’s fast reflexes. Light show was our only warning.”

“Do you think it’s because she’s part Whitelighter?” Tucker asked, packing his things to go meet up with his friends.

“Maybe? The Potters and Longbottoms don’t teleport like that? Danny’s calling Clockwork for information. None of the paperwork we have mentions anything like this. And her bio-father didn’t teleport in front of me…”

She paused, even as Tucker left the nursery and began making his way to them, then said, “So Clockwork says it is normal in her home dimension. It’s called ‘Orbing’ and only Whitelighters—and half-Whitelighters apparently—can do it. Paige probably just wanted one of us and—”

“Teleported,” Tucker finished grimly, “how do we make sure she doesn’t ‘port somewhere dangerous? Or where Danny can’t get her?”

“We either bind her magic or we just hope she doesn’t,” Sam answered just as seriously.

Tucker froze.

He didn’t know much about magic—he was the tech nerd, thank you very much—but he knew that the witches and wizards he knew treated it like something vital to their life. Another limb, another essential organ.

Even Harry and Neville used magic consciously enough when they were little to show that it was a part of them just like their skin color or eye color.

Binding someone’s magic seemed like cutting off a limb.

“We can’t do that to her,” he said heatedly, continuing his walk.

“Clockwork’s advising against it too,” Sam assured, “says she should grow up with magic, go to Hogwarts, and all that. But we might be able to bind her to us only—Danny’s calling Zatanna.”

“A magical kiddie leash?” Tucker asked, quickly coming up to them.

Sam snapped her phone shut and turned around, saying, “That’s the idea. Probably gonna try for something a little more flexible so we can travel with her. Or without her.”

Paige was in Danny’s arms, seemingly content, as he made his calls.

“Gave me a heart attack,” Tucker shut his phone, “when she disappeared. Any idea how she can ‘port so young? Harry and Neville didn’t and their kind can ‘port too.”

Sam sighed, scooping up her daughter so Danny could have both hands free, “’Cause it’s an inherent ability. Harry and Neville have to learn their method of teleportation. Theirs also takes more magic and concentration. Paige just has to want to go somewhere—in this case—”

“To her dad,” Tucker nodded.

Within the next few days Zatanna was able to set a ward that Paige couldn’t magically cross unless it was an emergency, at which the ward would break if exposed to extreme force or temperatures.

The ward was centered on Paige herself and only allowed her to orb within a five foot radius of her original position.

As Paige grew older, she gained more control over her ‘Orbing’ and learnt reasonable restrictions and the ward wasn’t needed anymore.

When she attended Hogwarts, she found that particular ability suppressed by the school’s wards but she had been warned so it wasn’t a nasty shock.

Though she never did get her Apparation license. She just couldn’t do it without Orbing instead.

The Ministry issued a special certificate once she had been examined by the examiners for the test and by several Healers who all confirmed that she couldn’t Apparate but she was doing something similar.

The then current Minister, Madam Amelia Bones, was a reasonable sort after all.

Chapter Text

Source of All Evil vs. Time Goddess: Time Goddess Wins:

“Cole!”

The man groaned and slowly blinked his eyes open, “What—what happened?”

“Bad Wolf ripped the Source right outta you,” Paige explained, gesturing to the woman she called Aunt Rose most days, “you have been de-Eviled.”

“Oh god, Phoebe! I’m—”

“Not your fault, you were fighting it. I know you were fighting it,” the witch said wetly as one of her sisters helped her husband from the floor.

“But I—the baby? He’s—”

“Gonna be fine, Cole,” Paige spoke up again, again gesturing to Bad Wolf who was surveying the mess with golden eyes, “Bad Wolf checked while you had your nap. Mom’s already offered her personal OBGYN.”

“What—what is Bad Wolf exactly,” Cole questioned next, moving to hold his wife.

“I am a Goddess of Time and Space from another Reality,” Bad Wolf intoned in her twinned voices, “I am the Bad Wolf, so named after where and when I first merged with my vessel. Rose Tyler allows me use of her form and voice when I am needed. You being the Source of All Evil was an aberrant timeline for this Reality. It could have collapsed the Universe.”

“So, Grandfather Clockwork called in a favor from Bad Wolf,” Paige chirped, “and opened the needed portals. We decided on an ambush once we were sure what was going on. Seriously, everything’s good now, okay? We’ll send Aunt Rose and Bad Wolf home, get you and Phoebe checked out by Palace Medical, and be home for dinner.”

Bad Wolf softened, “I give you a blessing for your child, Cole and Phoebe Halliwell-Turner. May this be the last of this great Evil he must deal with.”

“Thank you,” Phoebe croaked as Cole nodded his own thanks.

Paige stepped to the goddess and gave her a hug, which she returned, “Thank you, Auntie.”

“You are most welcomed, child.”

Chapter Text

Damian Still Finds Batcow:

Danny should have known this would happen eventually.

“What’re we gonna do with forty goats and twenty cows?” he asked his wife and son.

Damian was perched on one of the cows, who accepted him placidly, “We have the room, Father. We could rent the goats out as…lawnmowers and Miss Zatanna can charm the cows to lactate without being bred.”

“You should have seen the pens, Danny,” Sam said, already on the phone to no doubt make a complaint as a Manson even though she usually hated doing that, “the kids were trying their best but they were tiny—the pens, not the kids.”

“This one, however, I would like as a pet,” Damian continued, motioning to his odd mount, “I believe she is meant to be my companion.”

“Oh, really?”

Damian slipped down to his feet and gently made the cow raise her head; the cow went along with it easily, although Danny thought she might just be indulging a youngling.

There, on the cow’s brown chest, was a damn near perfect Bat sigil in stark white.

“Her carer named her Batcow,” Damian continued, “after the marking she displays. Since I should have been raised by Uncle Bruce and become a Robin then, quite possibly, the Batman himself, I believe this is a sign.”

Danny sighed before becoming serious, “Okay, you can keep her as a pet but her care will be up to you, understand? We’ll provide what she needs but the actual chores are yours.”

“Understood, Father,” Damian grabbed the lead to Batcow’s halter, “come along, Batcow. We keep pastures and barns for living creatures. I will have you settled before supper.”

He led his pet off, around the Palace gardens.

Danny wiped a hand down his face; first a turkey, now a cow.

What next?

Chapter Text

One of the Downsides of a Large Family:

When Marinette opened the portal to shuffle her sick partner through she was not expecting orderly chaos.

Adrien’s mother, having been soothing his youngest brother, paused then groaned, “Not you too.”

Adrien moaned like a zombie, shuffled forward through the portal, and collapsed onto his mother.

“What’s going on?” Marinette demanded, hopping through and shutting the portal.

“Ecto-flu,” Sam sighed, rubbing Adrien’s upper back, “like the flu but for Liminals and ghosts. I was hoping—yes, Anakin, I know, darling—Adrien wasn’t Liminal enough for this.”

Marinette nodded, checked that her hair was secured, rolled up her sleeves, and said, “Where do you need me? I don’t think I can catch this flu.”

“Take—Adrien you’re too heavy for this, you know—”

Adrien was now cuddling into Sam’s neck, nearly hanging off his mother.

Anakin was sniffling and coughing, clearly feverish, on Sam’s other hip.

“Take Adrien to Medical—” Sam instructed before pausing, “actually no. Go get medical. Tell them Adrien has it. They’ll process him then put him to bed.”

“Okay. Will you be okay?”

“Clockwork—the bastard knew—gave me a flu shot a few weeks ago so I should be okay,” Sam sighed, still consoling her two sons, “just…go get Medical, please. Adrien’s really too big, physically, to be doing this.”

“I got him,” Jazz appeared, mask and gloves on, pried Adrien from Sam with a whine from the younger boy before he latched to her instead.

Marinette nodded again and went off to the Medical wing of the Palace; there she informed Frostbite, who dispatched a team for Adrien, and was given a mask and gloves.

Then she was put to work, caring for Dean and Sammy and Damian who were only beginning to show symptoms; though she was also able to visit Adrien as she pleased.

Adrien was the sort of patient who was either clingy or who would curl up alone and die quietly; there was no in-between.

As the King was sick as well, sleeping it off in his chambers, Sam, Marinette, and a Yeti took turns nursing Adrien, cuddling as he wanted.

Adrien ended up needing fluids delivered by IV drip; thankfully, he was the only one.

Harry and Neville turned up with their family, sick as well, and were quickly put to bed in their shared rooms.

With more non-Liminals than Liminals now, they weren’t so run off their feet between sickbeds. Which was good because Jazz went down next, cursing her parents the entire way as she was confined to bed.

It took two weeks for the entire fiasco to end, Tucker once again being the last casualty; Clockwork, after being chewed out by an overly exhausted Sam and still recovering Danny, rewound time enough in the dimensions that nobody was missed as they returned home.

Adrien was annoyingly chipper, though Marinette couldn’t blame him because she had heard enough of his previous home-life; his healthy parent hadn’t left him to suffer his illness under cold and clinical care nor had expected him to get well just so he could work again.

No, his mother had nursed him personally when she could and had seen that his partner could spend time with him; he was kept abed a few extra days to truly recover as well. His care had been personalized for his comfort and wellbeing, not for the brand or family name or appearances.

He just felt bad that his entire family had been sick too.

And that his mother had exhausted herself so badly that she had fallen face first into bed once it was all said and done with.

Chapter Text

King of the Dead does Not Equal Death:

“Ah,” Danny understood, “I think there’s been a miscommunication here. I am the King of the Dead, not Death.”

“There’s a difference between them?” Piper asked.

“Yes. Death, the being, is the one that either oversees death, the process, or comes to personally collect the dying and escorts them over,” Danny explained, waving a hand, “each universe does it a little differently. Some Deaths have underlings, like Reapers. But anyways. That’s Death.”

He paused, obviously thinking before continuing, “Me? I oversee what’s left behind when someone doesn’t Move On. Also a few ancient afterlives but no Heaven or Hell dimensions. I’m basically the sheriff trying to keep order. Because I’m only half-ghost I am also the Keeper of the Balance between Life and Death itself in a very literal sense.

Danny sighed, “I can also help mortals in certain situations, as King. That’s how we got some of Paige’s siblings.”

“Paige was just given to us for her safety,” Sam smiled softly at her daughter, “her parents wanted nothing in return, just that she was safe and loved. When something like that happens, we fold the birth family in as well, as much as they want anyways. But your mother, Patricia, and Sam the Whitelighter, couldn’t afford to keep contact for Paige’s safety and yours.”

“Because we own Paige’s soul,” Danny added, “she will become a ghost upon death. You will usually have a choice, if you don’t have something holding you back anyways.”

“We highly suggest you Move On,” Danny said firmly before sighing, “but if you don’t you’re always welcomed here.”

Chapter Text

Sesshomaru Bearing a Gift:

“Since you are so fond of the half-breeds, Priestess,” Sesshomaru intoned, “This Sesshomaru has brought you one.”

Kagome gasped but hurriedly took the bundle the youkai had held out with one clawed hand; a hanyou, just like he said.

“Has the scent of wolves all over them and afterbirth,” InuYasha stated, watching Sesshomaru for any movement.

She nodded, rubbing their puppy ears to settle the baby down. They looked like an inu-hanyou, except for the tan hair and dark eyes.

“One of the wolves sought to hide their indiscretion in my lands,” Sesshomaru explained, “there is no honor in killing children, no matter their blood.”

“Thank you,” Kagome spoke, bowing, “Lord Sesshomaru, for saving them.”

The youkai left without a word.

Entrusting Shippo to Miroku and grabbing Sango, InuYasha opened a portal to the Realms.

“What happened now?” Danny greeted them.

“Sesshomaru just gave us a wolf hanyou pup,” InuYasha led the way to the Medical wing, “think they’re a newborn, or close enough.”

“Ancients.”

Within the hour, the pup—a little girl they named Imari—was declared healthy and had been given a bottle of formula.

“InuYasha,” Kagome said to her husband as she fed Imari.

“We’re keepin’ her,” he nodded in agreement.

As a hanyou, she was safest with them; with the Phantom family. Besides, there were few other people who take in a hanyou pup, even a healthy one.

“I’ll write down what I know of the wolf youkai,” Sango added; she had been brought along for her knowledge of youkai anatomy and childrearing practices.

“I’ll let the kitchen staff know to prep a feast,” Danny grinned, cooing at his newest granddaughter, “and call everyone back.”

“Do not give Imari to my Dad,” InuYasha told Kagome lowly, “we’ll never get her back.”

“I heard that!”

Chapter Text

Just Adding to the Family (or, Uncle Ghost King Again):

Patrick Halliwell-Turner was born in the Palace Medical wing, under the watchful eyes of the Queen’s personal OBGYN team.

He was a little premature, thus a little underweight, but not alarmingly so.

The incident happened during labor; Baltazar made an appearance.

He had moved to attack the staff, trying to protect Phoebe; they had prepared for this.

“Baltazar, honey,” Phoebe groaned with a contraction and the demon focused in on her, “they’re helping us. Remember? You met them?”

Baltazar curled a lip, showing his teeth, but backed down and let Cole back out.

Cole would shift between forms every so often for the rest of Phoebe’s labor, as if in warning.

But soon, all was said and done and Patrick was on his mother’s chest, nursing away happily while his parents looked on, enamored by his very existence.

The King and Queen were let in, after immediate family.

“We want to sell him to you,” Cole spoke after awhile, causing the Royals to stiffen in shock, “not…not like Paige was but like Dawn…is that Paige’s sister’s name?”

“He’s going to be a target,” Phoebe explained, “a Charmed One’s child. We want all the protection he can have.”

“We’ve talked it over,” Cole continued, “we’d like to name you his Godparents—if something happens to us and Phoebe’s sisters—”

Sam nodded along, understandingly as Danny thought it over, “We see what you’re saying…It’d be like with Dawn, Harry, and Neville. We’d be Patrick’s aunt and uncle. Danny?”

“Alright,” he nodded slowly, “I, King Danny Phantom, accept Patrick Halliwell-Turner’s soul as a sacrifice. In return I will give him my protection as a member of my family.”

Both Danny and Patrick glowed briefly.

“Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Dick Has A Thing For Redheads:

Damian nodded regally, “I see. You are polyamorous.”

Dick, Wally, and Kori blinked.

“There have always been rumors about Mother, Father, and Uncle Tucker,” Damian explained primly, “and while Mother and Father do love Uncle Tucker it is platonic in nature. They are also accepting of all sexualities and types of relationships as long as everyone involved can consent. Is there a reason you sought to tell me specifically?”

Dick chuckled, “We’re about to go public, and you might get questioned on your feelings and thoughts and whether you still feel safe around me and Wally.”

“Safe? Why would you be a danger to me?”

“It’s a very bad stereotype that gay and bi men are pedophiles,” Wally explained.

“Ah. Well, that is patently ridiculous,” Damian declared, “of course you would never touch a child sexually or even romantically.”

“There’ll still be people who ask,” Dick warned, “they’ll imply things, ask if we have any ‘secret games’—and they won’t be asking about Robin games!”

“I shall prepare for such idiocy then,” Damian promised before looking steadily at Wally and Kori, “do not dishonor Richard or his affections for you, else I will see you punished.”

“No problem with that, little man,” Wally bobbed his head in a speedster’s nod.

“I will not be unfaithful to Richard,” Kori vowed.

“Richard, treat them well as well or I shall be sorely disappointed in you,” Damian added to his would-be brother.

“Of course, I will,” Dick grinned at his would-be little brother and his compassion for others.

Damian eyed Kori, “I am told you are a formidable warrior; tell me, how well do you wield the blade?”

“It is not my favored weapon,” she admitted, “but I believe I am fairly well suited to it. Perhaps a spar?”

“I would like that,” Damian nodded with a small smile.

“I could take you for a run around the world?” Wally offered, “if your parents say it’s okay? Maybe visit a zoo somewhere? You like animals right?”

“That would be enjoyable,” Damian agreed.

And Dick beamed.

Chapter Text

Stability isn't Always Fun:

A scream woke the Fenton household one morning.

“Dad!” Danielle screamed from the bathroom.

Danny charged in to find her sitting on the toilet, sheet-white, her pants and panties down, “What? What’s wrong?”

Wordlessly, she pointed a shaky finger to the inside of her panties.

Blood.

Danny went sheet-white as well, “Sam! Mom! Dani started her period! Help!”

The women came running and Danny was quickly set on a supply run.

Which was how he found himself staring shelves of feminine products, completely at a lost.

He knew the products that his mom, Jazz, and Sam preferred but what was best for Dani?

“Mister Phantom?” a store worker found him, “Can I be of any help?”

“Uh, yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck, flushing, “my daughter just started her period and I was sent for pads? Everyone else in my family uses tampons—”

“Ah, say no more!” the woman picked a colorful package, “this’s a favorite for beginners. Even if she’s a heavy bleeder it’ll hold her for a few hours.”

Danny took it gratefully, “Thank you so much.”

He grabbed a couple more of the same brand and type, checked out, and raced back home; nobody paid him any attention as he flew through the air with grocery bags in his hands.

He arrived home, phasing back through the house and to the bathroom where Danielle looked horrified.

Maddie had done the brunt of the Talk, having Sam sit in so she knew how to give it for the next time, and Danielle was not impressed that this bleeding thing would happen every month barring certain circumstances.

Once she had new clothes and a pad on, she was taken down to the lab to make sure it really was her period and not a sign of clone degradation.

It was just her period, which made her huff; she had been hoping for a medical issue they could deal with.

She was not that lucky.

Chapter Text

Joker Dies:

The King arrived in the cave, “Batman.”

“Your Majesty.”

“This is just a courtesy visit,” said the King, hefting up an enormous scroll, “Tonight I will loose my Wild Hunt into the city of Gotham. They will search for and quite possibly execute the being you know as the Joker. Enough of his victims have petitioned me that I cannot ignore him anymore.”

He gave the rolled scroll to Batman; it unraveled and spread across the entire cave, signature upon signature inscribed.

Red Hood froze, asking carefully, “Can anyone sign?”

“If they’ve been killed by the Joker, yes,” the King nodded and a quill appeared, “just sign in the air and it will be added.”

Hood took the quill and signed his name but it crumbled away.

“You must sign the name he killed,” the King instructed.

Hood nodded and signed again using the Robin signature Dick and he had originated and every Robin used.

This signature glowed Lazarus—ectoplasmic—green.

The scroll glowed the same and the signature disappeared.

“Thank you, Robin,” the King intoned, ignoring the way Hood flinched at his old name, “I will seek Vengeance for you.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Hood replied, bowing his head briefly.

“The Balance—” Batman began, clearly looking for a loophole.

“The Balance has been upset by the Joker, Batman,” the King replied firmly, “even now I can literally hear Gotham’s lost souls cry for Vengeance. They are trapped as long as their murderer remains alive and unpunished.”

The King floated closer, “You have done your best, Batman, Dark Knight of Gotham, and I respect your morality but the Joker must be dealt with permanently before he kills again.”

There was a beat of silence.

Two.

Three.

Then Batman bowed his head in defeat, “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

“This will not be a failure on your part, Batman,” the King continued gently, reiterating, “This is Justice long delayed. I think once the Joker is Ended, you will find your city…lighter.”

“I…understand.”

And Batman did; he didn’t like it. Hated it, in fact, but even he knew he could not go against the Ghost King. Not without risking the King’s anger.

Danny was a good king, a kind king, but he was still the leader and protector of an entire dimension and species and apparently the Joker was now considered a public enemy of them.

Bruce was just glad the matter was out of his hands now; that Jason, Robin, would get Justice.

The King left with a nod.

The Bats weren’t seen that night but a parade of ghostly horsemen were; they flooded the streets, gathering up lost souls as they searched for their prey.

Even Jason was swept up in the mob, his soul yanked from his body; his soul was dressed as Robin, having never gotten Justice and thus never quite moved on.

Robin cackled and led the hunt to the Joker’s most used hide-out where they found the clown.

Robin hung back and allowed the mob, the Hunt to do their job. Robin could never kill. Red Hood could kill, any other mask could kill but never Robin.

The Joker died; as his shade formed, the King arrived and Shattered him.

Almost instantly, souls began to Move On, singing, laughing, celebrating their freedom. Even the ones going to the Not-So-Nice places were happy to just finally be free.

Robin laughed as well, a wispy, echoey thing before he began leaping rooftops and leading the Ghost King, his King, back to the cave.

Bruce nearly broke down at the sight of his son, all of fifteen years still.

“Was not expecting him to have an out of body experience,” Danny, for he was no longer acting as the King, explained, “but all of the Joker’s victims were summoned for Vengeance so…”

Robin-Jason gave a jaunty wave before returning to his body and just…laying back into it.

Jason woke with a groan, “My head.”

“That’s normal,” Danny assured as Alfred put Jason through his paces before declaring him fit to be released from medbay, floating closer to him, “Jason, how do you feel?”

“…Like I did when the Lazarus Pit got pulled from me,” he admitted, sitting up, “like there was a part of me that was missin’ an’ I got it back.”

“Vengeance,” Danny nodded, “your murderer has been dealt with so you feel more…settled. If you were just a ghost you’d have Moved On like everyone else.”

“He isn’t—isn’t going to die, is he?” Dick asked, “To Move On?”

“No, no, he’ll be fine—well, Liminal fine but you already know about that,” Danny assured, “he’ll die when it’s his time, like everyone else. We still don’t know how he came back, even Clockwork doesn’t know, but he’s alive and has a normal human lifespan ahead of him, if he doesn’t get killed before that. Probably become a ghost but we’ll handle that when it happens.”

He shrugged, “He’ll just be…more settled, like I said. I don’t think the Joker was what was Driving him—Liminals don’t get true Obsessions like ghosts, not really—”

“But something close,” Tim nodded.

“Jazz coined the term ‘Drive’ for it,” Danny nodded back, “it…doesn’t…it’s not something forcing a Liminal to do something but they tend to follow their Drives without thought. It’s…almost like they get brownie points for following their Drives. I think Jason’s Drive is making sure nobody else suffers the way he did. When he fails it…can knock them further off-kilter but not at all like a ghost denied their Obsession. That’s Bad. Trust me.”

“I see,” Bruce rumbled.

Jason had been particular about his mission since he came back, more driven than even Batman, and willing to do whatever it took.

To find that it may not have been in Jason’s full control was something he would have to think about later; from the look on Jason’s face, he too would be examining his own choices.

“It’s not mind control,” Danny reassured them, almost desperately, “trust me. Please. He still gets a choice but he will follow his Drive…like an instinct. He just has to stop and think before he does something.”

“What if he doesn’t follow his Drive?”

“Oh, maybe some depression or anger issues, depends on why he isn’t following his Drive. But nothing like a ghost denied their Obsession.”

“What about Damian?” Bruce realized and so did his children.

“He hasn’t developed a Drive just yet,” Danny explained, “that anyone can tell, anyways. But we think it might have to do with animals. Nobody knows yet. Frostbite says that’s okay. He’s a young Liminal and most young ghosts—time dead, not age at death—take a little to settle into their Obsessions.”

Danny raked a hand through his hair before continuing, “Liminality is…not a new concept but the amount of Liminals around is so we’re kinda in new territory here.”

Chapter Text

Dogs and Wolves:

The village took to Imari with ease and welcomed her; experienced parents took the new parents under their wings.

It was hard though; Imari grew fast, faster than any human baby would.

Within a week of joining her new pack, she had tripled her weight and doubled her length; she needed ‘round the clock feedings to keep up with her growth.

“Youkai babies grow fast at first,” Sango explained, taking her turn with Imari, “until they’re comparable to two-year-olds. It’s a survival adaptation. They have to grow fast. Then she’ll probably grow like a human or just a little slower. Then just stop aging for a while once she’s grown.”

InuYasha nodded tiredly, “That matches up to what I remember about growing up. I grew like Anakin and he’s human enough. Then I was stuck on that tree for fifty years without aging.”

“I thought that was because of the Seal,” Kagome yawned from her place at InuYasha’s side.

“No,” Sango shook her head, moving to burp Imari, “the Seal wouldn’t’ve protected him from Time. No one—nevermind.”

Sango had been about to say that no one was powerful enough to stop time but then remembered the Time Goddess the Phantom family knew.

“Kikyo couldn’t’ve stopped Time,” she amended, adding quietly, “my village never knew the upper limit of an inuyoukai’s lifespan. Because they usually don’t bother humans unless something has really gone awry.”

She looked to InuYasha, “Inuyoukai don’t normally prey on humans, so we didn’t have to deal with them much. I think my great-grandfather slayed one when he was a young man but they were sick and couldn’t otherwise hunt…If we knew how…friendly they could be my great-grandfather would probably have just nursed them back to health.”

InuYasha nodded slowly, “Good to know I’m not gonna be goin’ man-eating any time soon.”

Sango winced, “The wolf youkai on the other hand will—”

They all remembered the massacre of Rin’s village.

InuYasha’s voice was as hard as his eyes, “I’ll put her down myself.”

And he would; it would break him but she was his responsibility so he would do it if ever needed.

Chapter Text

A Childhood Mishap:

Danny rushed into the room, “What happened?”

The doctor greeted him, “Mister Phantom, I’m Doctor Olie. Dean was playing on the monkey bars when he fell. No head or spinal trauma but he did break his arm.”

“Dad,” Dean whimpered from the gurney, his arm already in a cast.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Danny gathered him up, beginning to sway as his son sniffled into his shoulder, “I bet that was scary wasn’t it? But I also bet you were so brave!”

Doctor Olie smiled, “It was a single clean break; and yes, he was very brave. He’s earned a lollipop if he’s allowed to have one.”

“Of course,” Danny said, winking at Dean who giggled wetly, “I think Sam will allow something so sweet just this once. We’ll just make sure you brush your teeth really good tonight.”

It was well known that Sam despised artificial sweeteners but she wasn’t so mean as to deny her children commercial treats every now and again.

“Four to six weeks,” Doctor Olie said, “but follow up with his normal pediatrician. I know he’s…not exactly human so he may heal faster.”

“Okay,” Danny said, nodding, “and the term is Liminal—ectoplasmically touched are called Liminals. They’re still human, just with something extra.”

“Liminal,” Doctor Olie committed the term to memory, “yes, well, I’m still not sure how that will affect his healing.”

“Don’t worry,” Danny said, shifting Dean to his hip, “we’ve got experts waiting. Depending on where the break is we just might heal him using magic.”

Dean was quickly discharged, lollipop in hand, and brought back to the Palace; it was decided to let him heal naturally, Doctor Peterson believing the less magic used on a prepubescent body the better, something that Frostbite agreed with.

It took Dean five weeks to heal completely.

Chapter Text

Another Childhood Mishap:

Bruce was in a meeting when he got the call.

He stepped out and answered, “Tim?”

“Heads up,” his son said, “Damian has appendicitis; he’s going into surgery soon.”

Bruce started power-walking, calling for his PA to reschedule the rest of his meetings for the day, including the one he just walked out on.

He made his way to his car, saying, “Status?”

“Stomach pain started at approximately eight this morning Realms’ Time—”

So, about six forty-five Gotham side. It was twelve thirty.

“—diagnosed at approximately ten Realms Time.”

Bruce made it to his car, “The family?”

“All Phantoms, Fentons, and Mansons have been recalled for support,” Tim reported, “Dick and Jason are returning to the Manor; Clark, Kon, and Jon are flying in. Danny is willing to allow us to the Palace if we want.”

“Yes,” Bruce pulled from the parking lot.

“Alfred’s already there,” Tim continued.

Within the hour, having broken several traffic laws, Bruce was pulling up to the Manor.

A green portal greeted him; he dove into it, rolling to his feet in the Palace.

“They just took him in,” Danny greeted, looking every inch the worried parent. Sam looked much the same from where she held Anakin.

“It hasn’t ruptured yet,” Sam added.

Bruce let out a sigh of relief at that; they caught it early and in time.

Then it was a waiting game.

It must have gone well because soon Frostbite was standing before them, “Great One, your son is safe and resting comfortably. He may be moved to his rooms as soon as he wakes properly.”

Danny grinned along with everyone else, relief in every feature, “Thank you, Frostbite.”

Everyone echoed his words.

Frostbite turned to Bruce, “Mister Wayne, you are the biological father of Damian, are you not?”

“I am,” Bruce nodded.

“I must warn you, Damian’s appendicitis seemed to have a genetic component. We are running tests just in case.”

“I see, thank you.”

Bruce made a mental note; he still had his appendix, but he wasn’t sure if Talia did. The medical records he had for her were rather incomplete and riddled with holes of stuff even she hadn’t known.

To say nothing of his parents or Ra’s.

Dammit.

Chapter Text

Happy Halloween (Shut Up, I know I'm Early):

“Ready to go?”

Sam was dressed as a witch in deep purple robes, pointed hat askew on her head, and had a pumpkin dressed Damian on her hip.

“Yeah!” Danielle was dressed as a middle school cheerleader, pom poms and all, and carrying an old pillowcase. She was in human form, her dark hair up in mini-buns on the top of her head and then some loose hair hanging down.

“Excited, huh?” Sam smiled.

“C’mon, c’mon, let’s go!”

Sam laughed and let her daughter lead the way; they were met outside by Danny, dressed as an Old West sheriff, in a monochrome color scheme matching his ghost form.

Already festivities had begun and the ghosts had taken part.

Young Blood’s pirate ship sailed around the town, circling slowly, and he tossed mortal candies down to his fellow kids.

Johnny and Kitty entertained with bike tricks and stunts, taking the braver teens for rides and racing human bikers.

Other ghosts hung out in the nearby corn maze, scaring maze walkers, or just floated around Amity giving out human candy to those brave enough to approach them.

“You ready, little lady?” Danny asked Danielle who winced at his bad accent.

“Please don’t do that, Dad.”

“Spoilsport. Mom said the same thing.”

“Because she has functioning ears,” Sam snorted, grabbing the small plastic pumpkin bucket for Damian’s candy. It was purple to match her robes.

Danny pouted and off they went, stopping by the lab to pick up a thermos, which Danny holstered, and say goodbye to the Fenton parents who were guarding the Portal for the night.

They made their way through the town, starting with the neighborhood.

It was Danielle and Damian’s first Halloween; Danielle’s previous one being busy with Court things and politics.

“Trick or treat!”

People cooed over Damian and complimented the other three on their costumes, Danielle made out like a bandit in treats.

(Seemed like no one wanted to risk ghostly ‘tricks’, as if Danielle would try any; her parents would be so disappointed).

Valerie came in flying low, dropping candy into buckets and pillowcases; she gave a few extra to Danielle and Damian as she said with humor, “All good, Chief.”

Danny looked relieved; he wanted to be there for his children but sometimes being King meant interruptions.

But with everyone behaving, he could just be a dad and a boyfriend.

Later that night, once the mortals went to bed, he would lead a parade of whoever wanted to visit still living relatives.

Later he would lead the Mournful Wails and Joyous Laughter as they scooped up those souls still lost on the Mortal Plane.

But right now, he was with his family.

As he should be.

Chapter Text

Happy Thanksgiving (Early, I Know, Shut up):

“Father, Mother, and Uncle Tucker wish to invite you to our Thanksgiving meal,” Damian said.

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked, “we’re a lot.”

Even without Damian, Bruce had many children and cooking for all of them was sometimes a tall order.

Damian smiled, “We are aware. You are not the only family we are inviting. Every child Father, Mother, and Uncle Tucker has taken in we have invited along with their remaining family if they have any. Even the non-Americans have been invited.”

“We’d be delighted to come,” Alfred said for his family, “should we bring anything?”

“You may,” Damian agreed, “however, the chefs and cooks of the Palace will be preparing the main meal. It will be mostly meatless. Seitan mostly, in observance with mine and Mother’s dietary needs and our beliefs. It will also be made in-line with kosher regulations.”

“Cookies,” Jason said, looking at Alfred, “we can make vegan cookies.”

“Very well, Master Jason,” Alfred nodded, already planning for such a large batch, or several batches.

Damian grinned.

Thanksgiving Day arrived and the portal opened.

They filed through and were greeted by Sam, the younger Sam on her hip, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

Sammy just waved shyly, gaining fond chuckles.

They all echoed the sentiment and were led through the palace to one of the ballrooms, “Not even the large dining room is big enough to hold our horde,” she said with humor.

“Oh?”

“Everyone invited came,” Sam explained before visibly remembering, “Oh, and any red wine you see? Not red wine; we have a vampire in attendance. He eats human food but not really.”

“Of course,” Bruce nodded; only Dick was of age to drink, of his children, but neither one really drank. Still, it was good to know.

“’m assuming the vamp’s friendly?” Jason voiced.

“Friendly as in doesn’t eat humans anymore, yeah,” Sam nodded, “but, well, Spike’s Spike. You’ll understand once you meet him. Don’t go after his humans and he’s nice enough.”

“Fair enough,” Stephanie nodded.

“Also in attendance are a Vampire Slayer, several witches and wizards, two magic superheroes…basically everyone you met at Damian’s birthday party’s here. I know Spike wasn’t there; he had to babysit the Hellmouth that day, so he’s really the only new face. Him and his daughter, Hope.”

“Vampires can have—”

“She’s adopted, from a separate dimension. Danny brought her to the Hellmouth group to hide her. She’s being raised by Buffy and Spike.”

“Oh.”

They finally made it to the ballroom; the doors were wide open; servants rushed forward to relieve the Waynes of the platters of cookies they carried before they entered the room.

Most of the room was divided down the middle by a cartoonishly long dining table, bench seating on either side of it. Settings were already in place.

In one corner was a padded and gated off area where Anakin and the baby that could only be Hope played. Well, played as only young babies could, which wasn’t much.

Dotted around the room were small clusters of regular chairs and beanbag chairs, some of which were already occupied, surrounding small tables with pitchers of water and juices and, yes, blood.

Spike the vampire was easy to pick out from the masses because he had a glass of what looked like red wine in hand. Nobody else did.

The Waynes spread out, first finding Damian to say hello, then mingling and visiting with the friends made at the birthday party.

Bruce made his way towards the vampire.

“’Lo,” Spike greeted lowly over his drink, Buffy at his side.

“Hello, Buffy,” Bruce said before smiling with a closed mouth, “and you must be Spike. Bruce Wayne.”

“Not an ape, mate,” Spike snorted, “won’t attack if you smile at me. Sit down, take a load off. Hear you’re Batman. The real deal one.”

“I am,” Bruce took a seat, reaching to fill a cup with orange juice, “where did you hear it from?”

“Dawn was excited; her little brother’s bio-dad is Batman,” Buffy explained, rolling her eyes fondly, “one of my friends, Xander, is a big comic book nerd.”

“Ah. I assume there won’t be any problems?”

“Not from us,” Spike agreed, nudging Buffy with a smirk, “my girl here’s a superhero too. Won’t be any trouble from our lot. Right, Slayer?”

“Yep. No problems from us. If Danny and Sam are good with you being…you know, you then we’re good,” Buffy nodded, “just as long as you don’t put Dawnie or Hope in a suit.”

“I don’t want them out there,” Bruce grumbled, “but if I didn’t help them, they’d all be dead by now.”

“We get it, honestly,” Buffy assured, “Dawn’s given us enough gray hair,” she grinned mischievously at Spike, “she’s even given Billy Idol here some.”

“Slayer, you know that pissant stole—”

Bruce laughed.

Everyone mingled and chatted for a few hours before the meal began; servant after servant carried food and drinks to the main table as everyone found seats on the benches.

Spike and Danny placed the babies into highchairs.

By the time everything and everyone was ready, the table was fairly groaning with the meal.

Danny gained everyone’s attention, standing and grinning, “Welcome to Thanksgiving Dinner at the Palace. Thank you all for coming, even our non-Americans for putting up with our silly traditions.”

The non-Americans laughed fondly, nodding; even Alfred cracked a smile.

“For those who’re probably wondering,” he continued, “our essential living staff celebrated at lunch and most will have the day off tomorrow. Everyone else had the day off today. Now, normally we’d go around and say what we’re thankful for but we’d be here forever if we did that tonight. So, while we eat let’s just think about what we’re thankful for and enjoy the food and the company. Oh, and just so you know, everything’s kosher and most of the ‘meat’ is actually Seitan. Real meat is on the green platters. But before we begin, let’s give a round of thanks to the kitchen staff for making the food!”

Everyone applauded.

“Now, tuck in!”

They all did so with gusto; the meal was magnificent and it was clear the Palace staff had put their all into it.

Most of the Seitan was shaped into meat product appearances, looking indistinguishable from the real turkeys and hams. And it tasted almost like the real things too.

The meal lasted well into the night and everyone went home stuffed and with leftovers.

Chapter Text

Damian's First Shots:

“Hello, hello, hello,” Doctor Peterson greeted as he came into the room, “how’re we doing today?”

“Nervous,” Sam admitted from where she rocked Damian; Danny just glowered.

“Don’t mind Danny,” she added, “he’s having problems today.”

“Oh?”

“I know this’s for his own good,” Danny growled, “so my Obsession’s okay with it; but you’re going to hurt him, which goes against my Obsession.”

“Say no more,” Doctor Peterson nodded as a nurse brought in the syringes, “I promise you he won’t even remember it. If you would?”

Sam nodded and laid Damian on the exam table, unbundling him and undoing his bodysuit before stepping to the side.

Doctor Peterson was a deft hand and it was over, except for the crying, in minutes.

Then Danny was rocking Damian, glaring at the doctor like he had personally committed a war crime in front of him.

Doctor Peterson wisely left the room quickly.

Sadly, Danny never did mellow out about his children getting their vaccinations; Sam would have to see to them herself while Danny was distracted.

Chapter Text

Ghost Animals Exist:

A portal opened and Damian stepped out, saying into it, “Stay.”

Then he looked at the grieving Waynes, “What has happened to Ace?”

Dick blinked before explaining, “C-cancer. Everywhere. It was…kindest to euthanize him.”

Damian nodded shortly, “That makes sense. Ace, come!”

Ace leapt out of the portal, in his ghostly prime; he looked like a living dog except with an odd green tint and slight glow about him.

He sat primly, like the good boy he was.

“He manifested at my side,” Damian explained as the Waynes dogpiled the dog, “a little disoriented from the drugs but otherwise sound. Father says he can stay on the Mortal Plane.”

“How?” Jason demanded.

“Father believes he was exposed to enough ectoplasm during his visits to Cujo,” Damian explained, “as a dog, he required much less exposure than a human to become Liminal. Liminal enough that when he died he manifested in the Realms. We are quite lucky he did not become lost.”

Damian paused, “Of course, if you do not want to keep—”

“We’ll keep him,” Tim said, slightly wild-eyed.

“Very well. He will need to visit the Realms periodically, for exposure to fresh ectoplasm will help him maintain his form and sentience. Otherwise, you may treat him as a living dog would be treated.”

Bruce nodded, “We’ll send him for visits when you visit. He can play with Cujo while he…soaks up the ectoplasm he needs.”

Damian agreed, smiling, “And he shall never be taken from you by old age or illness again. Oh.”

Dick had scooped up Damian into a hug, ignoring that he was a lanky teenager.

“Thank you for bringing him home.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

That night, Ace the Bathound flew beside his humans once again, unencumbered by age and all the related aches.

Word quickly spread that the Bats had some sort of meta-dog.

Chapter Text

The Bunker:

“Welcome to the Bunker,” Dean announced.

“How did you find this?” Sam asked, her eyes wide.

“So, turns out there was this group of Hunters called the Men of Letters,” Dean explained, leading his parents on a tour as he talked, “They acted like the Watchers’ Council in Dawn’s ‘verse. Collected info about the bumps in the night, dispatched Hunters to cases they caught.”

His parents nodded in understanding, with Danny asking, “So this was their secret base?”

“Yep. Turns out John Winchester was the first Winchester in centuries not to be a Man of Letters,” Dean replied, “but remember we found Grandpa Winchester in the Zone? He told me about this place. Said I could probably use it more than anyone else alive. It’s all set up for, like, a hundred grown people to live here full-time. Bedrooms and bathrooms and a huge kitchen. Medbay even. Little outdated but that’s gonna be my pet project. With Emma and Cas; think’ll be good for them to learn some construction techniques.”

They ended up in the library, sitting at a table with drinks, “We’ve got rooms for everyone; Charlie and Kevin are getting ready to move in.”

“What support staff do you need?” Danny asked intently.

“Wouldn’t say no to an on-call doc, Dad,” Dean said reasonably, raising his beer, “or a cook. But we can get along without support staff.”

But a support staff he did get; later that night two ghosts appeared in the Bunker.

A chef and a nurse.

Dean rolled his eyes at his parents’ overprotectiveness and greeted the newcomers, setting them up with their own rooms and areas.

And so the Men of Letters were reborn.

Chapter Text

Meet The Parents:

“C’mon, Cas!” Dean laughed, dragging the angel into the portal.

The angel allowed this; letting himself be led through a palace; Emma skipped merrily ahead of them.

They arrived in a sitting room and Emma beelined towards the two people already there.

“Grandma! Grandpa!”

Castiel froze, “Your Majesties? Dean, you did not mention I would be meeting your parents. Dean.”

Dean laughed again, “Cool it, Cas. They’re just Danny and Sam right now. Mom, Dad, Castiel, real live Angel. Cas, my Dad, Danny Phantom, and my Mom, Sam Phantom.”

“Dad finally got the balls to ask Cas out!” Emma whispered to her grandparents who gave a shocked laugh each.

“Emma!” Dean whined, color coming to his cheeks.

Danny opened his mouth but an older black man arrived, “You have no room to talk!”

Sam and Danny flushed, with Sam nearly whining, “That was decades ago, Tuck!”

Dean snorted, “Cas, this’s my uncle Tucker. He had to put up with my parents in school. Uncle Tucker, Castiel, Angel of the Lord.”

“Huh,” Tucker squinted behind his glasses, “you don’t look like what I’d think an angel would.”

“Angels in our dimension make use of Vessels,” Castiel graveled, “human bodies able to hold the Might and Holiness of an angel’s Presence. Elsewise my true form would drive you mad as it rendered you a charred mark where you stood.”

A beat.

“So, that’s cheery,” Sam muttered.

“What happens to the humans?” Danny demanded.

“They must give their consent to be used as a Vessel and are…pushed down and aside,” Castiel’s eyes filled with grief, “My Vessel was a man named James Novak. I was planning to Leave him when my work on Earth was Done. But his soul now resides in Heaven; we were both killed by my brother, Lucifer. Only I was resurrected by my Father’s Grace.”

He took an unneeded breath, “I swear, I was going to Leave James’ body when I no longer needed to be on Earth. Despite my affections for Dean and Emma.”

“And Mister Novak’s family?”

“His wife believes that he had a psychotic break and abandoned their family and marriage,” Castiel admitted, “She did not believe in me. His daughter rightfully blames me for her father’s death and her family being destroyed though I do try to ‘keep tabs’,” he did air quotes, “on her. She is now a Hunter. She has a room in the Bunker.”

Nobody looked happy with the news, not even Dean who had already known, but there was nothing they could do about it now.

“Well, Castiel,” Danny spoke up, “welcome to the family.”

The angel blinked.

Dean laughed again, “Yeah, it’s that easy.”

Chapter Text

Padme Meets Anakin's Parents:

“I already met your family,” he said, smiling softly at her, “and you’ve met Shmi and my Lineage. It’s definitely time for you to meet my parents.”

“Oh, Ani,” she breathed out before nodding.

Anakin took Padme’s hand in his and led her through the portal and into the Palace.

He led her through the Palace with ease, sharing stories about how he grew up in it, before they entered a small sitting room.

A man and a woman were waiting.

“Mom, Dad,” Anakin greeted warmly, going in for hugs which were just as warmly given before pulling back and motioning to Padme, “Padme Naberrie. Padme, my mom and dad, Sam Phantom and Danny Phantom.”

Padme curtseyed, “Your Majesties.”

“None of that,” Sam spoke, “right now, we’re just Anakin’s parents. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

They all took seats as Padme said, “I know Anakin has been…hesitant.”

“Not because of my parents or you, Angel,” Anakin assured, taking her hand and closing his eyes, “I love you so much that I—I can’t bear the thought—”

“There’s a film series about your universe,” Sam spoke for her son when words failed him in fear and guilt for something he hadn’t done and would never do.

“I know,” Padme replied before her mouth made an ‘o’ shape in realization, “oh, Ani. I’m not afraid of you.”

“I am.” He admitted, “what he did to his you…she was pregnant and he accused her of—then he Force Choked her. He killed her, Padme. They say she died of a broken heart but he Choked her to death. I know it.”

“But you’re not him,” she assured, “the Sith Lord is gone, Ani. You’re not even a Jedi. Shmi’s still alive and so are the Tuskens. Obi-wan knows we’re dating, so do the Jedi and the Senate and the public and nobody important has said anything.”

She smiled softly, reassuringly, “When we get married it won’t be some secret thing. When we have children—”

“What if I get the visions?” he questioned, looking a little wild around the eyes.

“Son,” Danny said firmly, in a voice all his children responded to no matter the circumstances, “when it comes time, we’ll have every healer and doctor possible looking after them, okay? If something happens, we have the Healing Pools on standby.”

Padme nodded, “See? I don’t think that other me had prenatal care, Ani. The twins were a surprise. But I’ll have care and we’ll have everyone to help. And if I do die, Ani—if I do die, I’ll do my best to come back as a ghost.”

Anakin took a deep breath and, calming, nodded, “I know—but I’m still afraid. I never want to hurt you like that.”

He took another breath and said, “Mom, Dad. I think I need to go back to therapy—I—I can’t stop thinking about—”

“Okay, Anakin. You’ll go back to therapy.”

Chapter Text

Anakin's (Pseudo) Knighting:

Anakin gave his beads to Obi-wan, who took them with grateful gravitas.

Once the hand off was completed, the celebrations began; it was not quite the Jedi way, but the entire Phantom family had witnessed the ceremony and so gathered around Anakin, congratulating and hugging him.

Shmi was there, tears in her eyes; when she had given him up all those years she had never even dared dream what his life would be like. Now? Now her baby was a Jedi in all but name.

Padme was there, proud of her fiancé and so glad Sidious couldn’t taint all they had; the galaxy wasn’t at war, Anakin wasn’t being Knighted so he could help lead an army of clones, of slaves.

Part of her mourned the friends they would never meet, as the clones had not been created, but most rejoiced in the Peace of the galaxy and the death of the Sith.

Anakin grabbed her, lifted her, and spun her around, kissing her deeply but chastely, joyous that they didn’t have to hide.

Even the Jedi were smiling.

The Force sang.

Chapter Text

Padme "Meets" InuYasha:

“This’s my twin brother,” Anakin said quietly, “his name’s InuYasha.”

Padme gazed up at the—dead? Sleeping?—man, taking in the fact that he looked nothing like Anakin.

“We’re not actually related,” Anakin laughed softly, “not biologically at least. But we’re the same age and did everything we could together. Mom and Dad started calling us their twins.”

“What happened? Is he—Is he—?”

“A Priestess Sealed him to the tree—with that arrow, do you see it?—He’s sorta…in stasis? Not alive or dead.”

“Why did she do that?”

“It was…another hanyou—that’s what he is—took his form and face and voice and attacked her village. Then it used her form to attack him. So then he really did betray her, thinking he had been betrayed.”

Padme’s jaw dropped, “So the priestess shot him?”

“Yes.” Anakin shook his head, “It’s only because he’s half-human—that’s what hanyou means, half-human, half-youkai—and she still loved him deep down that he wasn’t purified—killed by her power. She died of her wounds from the imposter right after. Reincarnated immediately.”

“And nobody can free him?” Padme asked softly, hand twitching.

“A single person can; the priestess’s Reincarnation. We’re waiting on her. Nobody else is Allowed to free him.”

He turned to her, eyes filled with hope and grief, “That’s why I want to put off the wedding, Angel. I want to marry you, I do, but I want—”

“You want your whole family in attendance,” she nodded in understanding, “oh, Ani. Of course, we can wait.”

And they would; it would take a few more years but when they married all three families (for Anakin’s Lineage was also in attendance and counted as a family) were there to celebrate with them.

Chapter Text

Danny Vs. His Council:

“Enough.”

He did not shout or bellow but the Throne made sure everyone heard him and stilled.

“Enough.”

His eyes burned with flames as he stood; he was physically unimposing but his aura commanded Respect.

For he was the King and would not be bullied by his own Council.

“Enough,” he repeated, burning the dossiers of potential wives, “I will only have one Queen and I’ve already chosen her. If she agrees, then I will marry Sam Manson. She will mother my heirs—”

“But Sire,” one of the Observants simpered, “the girl is Mortal still.”

“And I’m half, what’s your point, Observant?” Danny hissed, “she is my friend and my love; already the mother of my heir. Or would you rather a bastard take the Throne?”

“Ah…yes…your heir…” someone muttered uncomfortably, “are you certain, Sire, that you wish to claim the girl as your child?”

“Danielle is my daughter,” Danny shouted then, “and my heir! You will give her the respect due to her Title as Crown Princess! She will, somewhere in the far future, be your Ruler! Your Queen! Regardless of how many children I have!”

“And of the infant, My Lord?” another Observant asked carefully, “Surely he is not a Prince?”

Danny shook his head, calming, “No, Damian is not officially a Prince but will be treated as one. Am I understood?”

“Of course, My Lord.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“As you Will, Your Majesty.”

“Any children I am…given will be my wards and should be treated as such,” Danny instructed firmly, noting the stenographer taking notes quickly, “in fact, I Decree it. Any child of mine, whether biological or adopted shall be treated as a Prince or Princess no matter what. That includes any wards. All children sacrificed to me shall become mine as if I sired them with my lawfully wedded wife.”

“Well worded, Young King,” Clockwork appeared, praising him before glowering at the Observants, “continue upon this path and there shall be only ruins left.”

Then he turned back to Danny and promised, “She will say yes, My King, provided Time marches as I have Observed.”

“Council dismissed,” Danny ordered and everyone but he and Clockwork, and the stenographer, fled the chamber.

“You can leave too,” he said to the stenographer kindly who nodded, packed her things, and headed for the Royal Scribes.

Danny slumped back into the Throne, wiping a hand down his face tiredly, “Have they always been this stubborn? Or do they just hate me?”

Clockwork laughed ominously but didn’t reply.

Chapter Text

Stop Panicking, Anakin:

“Anakin? Padme? What’s going on?” Obi-wan asked, hurrying into the apartment.

Anakin was gripping Padme’s hand tight; with the hand he hadn’t lost in the war that never was. His presence in the Force a chaotic mix of love and hope and fear.

Padme was cuddled up to him, but she smiled softly as she said, simply, “I’m pregnant.”

“Congratulations!” Obi-wan beamed before he realized why Anakin looked and felt as he did, “Right, to the Healers with you. All of you. Come along.”

He chivvied them down to his speeder and drove, carefully, to the Temple where he led them to the Halls of Healing.

An examination found that everyone was healthy, that Padme indeed carried twins, and that there were currently no complications expected save for those due to carrying multiples.

Anakin was found to be anxious and fearful but otherwise mentally sound and unmanipulated in any way.

Neither had any Sith influence on or in them.

While they underwent physicals, Obi-wan commed Anakin’s parents; thus, when Padme was released with a clean bill of health, she was hurried through a portal, Anakin at her side, for another physical with Palace Medical, which did include an OBGYN.

She bore all the fuss with grace; she knew what Anakin feared…and, honestly, in a tiny part of her heart she feared it too.

It was just a movie, a primitive holovid; Sidious was gone and they were all safe.

“Everyone’s perfectly fine,” Doctor Garter, OBGYN, said before admitting, “though you’re likely to need a c-section. Multiples almost always end with one. But I see nothing concerning so far. We’ll set up an appointment schedule. I’ll contact Doctor Che for consultation because Anakin’s so powerful and I don’t know what that means for you or the babies. But physically everything’s good.”

Anakin relaxed; two doctors had said everything was fine so far.

Yes, there could be complications in the future but he was sure they would be caught in time.

In the meantime he would talk to his therapist about his anxiety.

Chapter Text

The First Child (or Vlad's a CREEP):

Danielle was fast.

Danny was faster.

“Danielle Fenton!” he bellowed, holding the struggling girl.

She went limp and instead began begging, “I’m sorry! I didn’t know! Promise! I’ll—I’ll leave. I won’t come back!”

“Dani,” Danny was softer now, embracing his—his daughter, “we’re not mad! Not at you!”

“Sam is,” Danielle spat fearfully.

“Sam is—Sam?” Danny, still holding Danielle tight, turned to his girlfriend and found her with a thousand-yard stare into thin air.

“How did that—that frootloop get my DNA?” Sam asked no one and everyone.

Everyone stilled; she was right.

Vlad had almost unfettered access to Danny but Sam?

“Let’s just not think about it?” Danny suggested in a high-pitched voice, “We have other problems?”

Sam finally came back to herself and eyed him warily, “What problems—if you even think I have a problem—”

“Dani thinks you’re mad at her,” Danny said quickly, still restraining Danielle.

“Oh. No! Dani, I’m not mad at you, sweetheart,” the endearment came easily and naturally, “I’m—surprised. Shocked. Mad at Vlad. Not you.”

Danny brought Danielle to her and Sam really looked at the girl, instantly cataloguing her own features in the girl—her daughter.

She started laughing, laughing so hard she was crying.

“Sam?”

“My mom and dad,” she laughed, “are going to kill us all. I think they have nightmares about Danny and me being teen parents.”

Danny’s eyes widened, “Oh, fudge!”

Sam began earnestly crying, “Oh my god, Danny! We’re parents!”

Danny let go of Danielle, “Oh, fudge.”

Danielle was frozen, “P-parents?”

Her voice was small and hopeful; she was blinking rapidly.

Danny regained his composure, cupped her face in his hands and said, gently, “Parents, Danielle. We’re your parents and we’re gonna act like it. You don’t have to run away.”

Danielle began crying, latching onto her—her father, who hugged her to him, whispering affirmations of their love of her.

Sam joined in on the hug.

Maddie and Jack slipped from the lab to give them some time alone.

Chapter Text

Imari Meets Her Maternal Grandmother:

“Oh my goodness!” Missus Higurashi breathed, taking in the tiny hanyou, “Where did you find them?”

The little thing was swaddled tightly, in her daughter’s arms; Missus Higurashi knew they weren’t biologically related due to the hair and eyes and the fact that her daughter would have never hidden a pregnancy from her.

(Refused to use the Well while pregnant maybe, but Kagome would have sent word)

“Sesshomaru—my biological half-brother—found her in his lands.” InuYasha explained, “he brought her to us instead of killing her himself. No honor in hurting pups, he said.”

“She’s wolf-hanyou, we’ve named her Imari,” Kagome added softly, eyes pleading with her mother to accept her child as she was.

Sure, Missus Higurashi accepted InuYasha but dogs were very different from wolves.

Missus Higurashi nodded, “What a lovely name.”

The two young adults visibly relaxed.

“May I hold her?” Missus Higurashi asked and held out her arms.

Kagome nodded and carefully handed over Imari, who looked up at her grandmother with big eyes and her little nose was moving.

“It’s okay, pup,” InuYasha said, before explaining, “you smell like Kagome so you must be pack but you don’t smell like pack.”

“Oh,” Missus Higurashi supposed that made sense to dogs and wolves before smiling down at her granddaughter, “you’re okay, little one. I’m your grandma.”

She looked back up to them, “Can she understand me? How old is she?”

“She’s about two months,” Kagome winced, “four months compared to a pure human; we didn’t wanna risk the Well until she was old enough and we didn’t think about portals—I’m so sorry, Mama.”

“Nonsense, it’s perfectly alright, dear,” Missus Higurashi assured, “I wouldn’t want to jump into a Well with a newborn either! Even with InuYasha carrying us both!”

She looked back down to Imari, who had managed to work an arm from the swaddling; her little fingers ended in claws not until her adoptive father’s.

“We swaddled her for the trip,” InuYasha said, reaching forward to gently unwind the cloth, “that way we wouldn’t break anything.

Imari was dressed in a modern bodysuit and clearly had a modern cloth diaper on her.

“She’s so big for two months old?” Missus Higurashi wondered, sitting Imari up in her arms.

“Like Kagome said, she’s four months developmentally for a human,” InuYasha explained, “she seems to grow at twice the rate. She’ll slow down when she’s older. Our slayer friend says it’s to increase survival rates—No.”

Imari had reached for a loose piece of her grandmother’s hair but at her father’s sharp tone let her hand drop.

“InuYasha—” Missus Higurashi scolded but he shook his head.

“Her hanyou strength’s already showing,” he explained softly, “she’ll yank the hair straight from your head. Roots and all. She’s already got a buncha fur off Shippo and Kirara. Poor cat has a bald spot now.”

“Oh my.”

“She doesn’t mean anything by it,” he assured, a tad desperately.

“Of course she doesn’t! All babies grab hair!” Missus Higurashi agreed fervently.

“Sorry, Mama,” Kagome spoke up, sheepishly, “we’re just a little on edge. Most people, in the Feudal Era, want all hanyou dead. They’ll blame her for everything she does, even if by accident.”

“Oh Gods,” Missus Higurashi suddenly understood why they were so tense about her accepting Imari.

“The Well Village took to her well enough,” Kagome continued, “they accept her and InuYasha despite what happened…well, with Kikyo. But we still have to worry about outsiders. Not that we think you’d hurt her or us but—”

But the worry, the fear was still there; especially for InuYasha who must have remembered the hatred before he was adopted.

“InuYasha’s family—?”

“Adore her,” InuYasha assured, “we already have extraction plans if things go south. The city I grew up in, they’ll accept her. They accepted me. Figured I was just someone from the Realms who wasn’t quite human anymore. Some people know the truth, it’s not a secret but we don’t go shouting about it either, ya know?”

Missus Higurashi nodded; she had already met some of the creatures and beings from ‘the Realms’ and most did look almost human or almost like something else that any oddness was to be politely ignored and not remarked upon.

InuYasha looked positively normal compared to some of them!

Chapter Text

Nanny Clara to the Rescue:

“Nanny Clara?” Anakin asked, unsure if he was actually seeing his old nanny or if sleep deprivation was finally causing hallucinations.

In his arms, Leia wailed her fury at an uncaring world; Luke was finally asleep for once and Padme was resting.

Clara clicked her tongue against her teeth at his appearance; he hadn’t slept more than an hour in a few days, his clothes, almost Jedi-like robes, were mussed and messy, and he had more than a five o’clock shadow.

The bags under his eyes were nearly designer.

Clara quickly scooped Leia up, shushing her before saying, “The King sent me, you haven’t checked in recently. Lord Clockwork peeked and found you needed help. Go sleep, young one.”

Anakin swore, winced at the look he received for swearing, and dug around in his pockets for his family comm.

He found it and made the call, “Hey, Dad, Mom. Did you really send Nanny Clara over?”

“Clockwork said you needed a hand with Luke and Leia,” Danny explained, “and you don’t have a pack to rely on like InuYasha. So, yeah. We sent her over.”

“Anakin?” Padme stepped into the room, “who’s holding Leia?”

“My old Nanny,” Anakin explained, quickly saying goodbye to his parents, “Nanny Clara, my wife Padme. Padme, Nanny Clara; she looked after me when everyone else couldn’t.”

Clara took in Padme and then clicked again, “I’ll be helping with the children, don’t you worry. I’ve been a nanny for most of my life and all my afterlife. I keep up to date with the latest childrearing techniques and theories on the Mortal Plane. I am knowledgeable in childhood development and have sat in enough classes to receive my Early Childhood Education degree and teacher’s license if I were still alive.”

Padme slowly nodded, “Who was the last child—”

“David Phantom,” Clara answered, “however, he has started daycare and no longer needs a full time nanny.”

“Anakin?”

“We can trust her, Angel,” Anakin assured.

“Alright. Welcome to Coruscant. We’ll go over schedules once me and Anakin can see straight again.”

“Thank you, Senator.”

Clara’s features turned stern, “Now, to bed with both of you. I’ll take care of the little ones—are they on breastmilk or formula?”

“Breastmilk,” Anakin yawned, “it’s—oh, I’ll just show you.”

He gave the nanny a tour of the apartment, including the kitchen and appliances that weren’t in the dimensions Anakin had grown up in.

Once Clara was abreast of the situation and her resources, she shooed the two exhausted parents off to bed.

They went gratefully, collapsing together and quickly falling asleep.

Leia was also asleep so Clara put her back to bed, checked on Luke, and began tidying up.

A couple hours later, there was a soft knock at the door, “Anakin? Padme?”

Clara quickly moved to open the door, greeting, “Mister Obi-wan.”

He smiled in relief as she let him and his padawan in, “Nanny Clara. Lovely to see you again. I assume everyone’s asleep?”

He kept his voice low, barely above a whisper.

“Oh, yes,” Clara nodded, “the King dispatched me to help with the babies.”

“Good. I kept telling them they need help, two Force sensitive babies at once, my goodness,” Obi-wan and Ashoka took a seat as did Clara.

“Master?” the Togruta said.

“Ah, of course. My apologies, Ashoka, this’s Clara. She was Anakin’s nanny when he was very young. Clara, my Padawan, Ashoka.”

They exchanged greetings before Obi-wan continued his previous thought, “As I was saying, two Force-sensitive babies are a lot to handle. One is! I’ve been begging them to ask for help but those stubborn fools…no matter now I suppose; how have you been, Clara?”

And they caught up for an hour before Luke woke for a feeding and Obi-wan began dinner.

Not an hour after that Anakin and Padme came rushing from the bedroom, horrified that they had slept when their children needed them, before stopping short.

“Nanny Clara?” Anakin questioned; he had been sure that had been a hallucination.

“Yes, Anakin,” Clara rolled her dark eyes.

“Oh, thank god.”

Chapter Text

The Waxing Crescent:

Imari was fussy all day, no matter what anyone did.

Her keening pup howls broke hearts as she cried and cried.

Doctor Peterson, Frostbite, even Doctor Liken couldn’t find anything wrong with her.

She was just fussy; she refused to be parted from her packmates. They all had to stay around her or she would start howling again.

Then the sun set.

She immediately turned human and began crying in earnest.

“Waxing crescent,” Kagome noted the moon phase down on her calendar, the one she specifically bought for the phases of the moon it had.

“She must have felt the change coming all day,” Sango voiced, taking her turn with the baby, “poor thing must be so confused!”

“Loss of scent is the worst,” InuYasha explained softly, “the nose starts going dull during the day. It’s like slowly going blind. Explains why nobody could leave. She couldn’t scent us right. After the nose starts going, then hearing starts shorting out randomly. Imagine being able to hear an ant fart then suddenly barely hearing yourself talk.”

Everyone else winced at the idea of slowly losing their senses over the course of a day before they abruptly disappeared completely that night.

No wonder Imari was crying; they would cry too.

Nobody slept that night, not even Imari. She also would not eat and constantly messed herself.

Everyone took a turn with her; nobody was allowed to leave her vicinity.

Everyone was very relieved when the sun rose and she regained her youkai traits; she was with Miroku when it happened, snuffling into his robes.

“Hush, little one, hush,” he was murmuring to her as he swayed with her, “I know, it’s scary but—oh.”

Her little claws clung to his robes as her ears wiggled as if stretching.

He smiled tiredly, “See? There we go. All better now. I bet you’re hungry, let’s find InuYasha or Kagome.”

“Here,” InuYasha arrived with a warmed bottle in his hands.

And life resumed.

Chapter Text

Damian's Very First Day of School:

Damian’s first day of preschool was, in a word, disastrous.

He was fine that morning, as his parents and Uncle Tucker got him dressed and ready for what was sure to be an ordinary day.

He was fine being carried into the school and set down amongst the other children; in fact, he immediately started playing with a few of them.

He was okay as his parents spoke to another grown-up.

He was not okay when they left him.

Damian cried and cried and cried, screaming for his parents or Uncle Tucker or any other family member.

Poor Miss Yang could not settle him down but knew it was normal; well, not normal. but could be expected for a child used to being with his family twenty-four-seven.

He finally fell asleep around naptime and when he woke up only sniffled and grumbled his way through story-time.

He made a beeline for his father when it came time to go home.

“I’m so sorry for his behavior,” Danny said, lifting Damian to a hip.

Miss Yang looked caught out, blue eyes wide, “It was nothing unusual, considering, but how did you know?”

“I have a small group of soldiers watching the school,” he nodded at an empty corner, a Roman Centurian ghost appearing and saluting before disappearing again, “one inside the class. They’re here in case anyone tries anything ‘cause of who we are. But they’re under orders not to engage unless and until there’s a clear and present danger to the students. They gave reports during rotation change. Their leader reported to me on my lunch break…”

Danny grinned sheepishly, “Sam’s the only reason I didn’t come pick him up then.”

“I assure you it’s perfectly normal for some separation anxiety, Mister Phantom,” Miss Yang replied, “especially considering you’ve taken him everywhere with you so far…” she paused, “will you be leaving the…soldier in class?”

“Two weeks tops,” Danny promised, still sheepish, “until my…until I know it’s safe. Nothing against you or the school but I’m…my thing is to protect people, especially my family.”

Miss Yang nodded in understanding; everyone knew each ghost had a Thing about them.

“It’s called an Obsession,” Danny continued, “mine is to Protect. And there’re a lot of people who aren’t happy about my…status. But I promise, Christopher won’t interrupt unless he has to. He even speaks English so if you need ghostly help just as. After he’s removed, he’ll be in charge of the squad I assigned here so you can just call his name.”

“His name’s Christopher?” Miss Yang blinked.

“He doesn’t remember his actual Name,” Danny explained, “so he picked a new one. Most ghosts his age do it.”

“Mama,” Damian spoke up.

“What, oh. Yeah. We’re going to see Mama,” Danny shifted and left with a goodbye.

Miss Yang exhaled sharply, feeling what she now knew was Christopher leave as well.

All things in Heaven, she supposed.

Chapter Text

The Van:

“I need the biggest van you have,” she told the salesman simply.

Mark, or so his nametag said, blinked as he took in the rather petite teen girl, “Are you sure?”

Sam sighed, “Yeah. I don’t like it either but I’ve got two kids, a best friend, and an idiot boyfriend who’s not allowed to drive and gets injured a lot. So biggest van, preferably with folding or removeable seats.”

Mark shrugged and led her to their more…industrial lot, “We do have one brand of van; seats eight in three rows. The last row folds into the floor to enlarge the cargo area. Even without folding down the third row the cargo area can definitely fit at least one body. Sadly it only comes in black or white.”

He showed her the van; it was rather square with a short engine area; it looked rather like a bulldog.

Mark opened it and allowed Sam to explore the interior. She checked the seatbelts and folding seat, whether the seats could be wiped clean or if they would need covers.

Mark allowed her to start the van, he had grabbed the keys on the way over, and everything sounded okay and the console worked.

Satisfied, she called her parents who bought her a black van outright. With a generous tip for Mark who was so understanding.

Then the van was turned over to the Fentons who made it like the GAV; by the time Sam got it back it was the unholy lovechild of a tank. It was still sleek black but now featured Danny’s insignia on the hood.

And extreme child safety features because Fentons were overprotective. And Danny was the worst of them.

The car seat for Damian alone could withstand being ground zero for a small bomb and protect Damian at the same time. It had anti-gravity propulsion, an anti-ghost shield already keyed to Phantom ectoplasm, and a cover that covered the entire thing like an armadillo curling up.

Danielle pouted about her booster seat.

But the van fit everyone, for a few years; at a certain point, the Phantoms just gave up and bought a small bus. Which was also outfitted like the GAV and the van.

The townspeople were just happy that Sam didn’t drive like a Fenton outside of emergencies.

Chapter Text

The Shopping Trip:

“Paulina.”

“Sam.”

Sam sighed, “Look, I need a favor. You heard about Danielle, right?”

Paulina blinked and nodded slowly, “Yeah, Danny’s kid?”

“Well, she’s mine too but…nevermind that. She has only the clothes on her back and our hand-me-downs. I’m taking her shopping with my Mom and Danny’s mom. But I know you’re…well, you. So I was wondering—”

“If I’d help with the shopping trip.”

Sam nodded, leaning against a locker, “I’m still not…we’re still not friends but I want Danielle to…get her own sense of style. I figure between the four of us…”

Paulina nodded again, seeing where the goth was going. A girl’s sense of fashion was something to be encouraged.

“And if she gets trendy clothes?” Paulina asked.

Sam made a face, “If that’s her choice, then sure. She hasn’t had many choices in her life and I won’t take any away if I don’t have to. I know Mom’s already put together a list of the essentials she’ll need; Mom’s demanding at least one pair of kitten heels for example. But everything else will be Dani’s choice.”

Again Paulina nodded; Sam didn’t act it but her family was wealthy and there were certain standards to be met. Even Sam could ‘clean up’ well when needed.

“Fine.” Paulina agreed, “I’ll meet you at Nasty Burger on Saturday.”

“Thank you.”

Saturday came quickly and Paulina was picked up by a limo.

“Thanks for showing up,” Sam said wryly before introducing, “You know my mom and Danny’s mom but this’s Danielle.”

The younger girl waved shyly and Paulina took in her attire; boys’ clothes, very space themed. Definitely Danny’s old clothes. Beat up sneakers. A red beanie.

They had their work cut out for them.

“Hey, Danielle,” she greeted.

They headed for the mall, simply for the variety of choices.

They spent hours shopping, each of the women encouraging Danielle to make decisions, choices, based on what she liked. Not what they liked.

Danielle’s style ended up being very casual, geared more towards comfort than style but she did get some trendy pieces and it turned out she favored blues over any other color though some greens crept in as well.

She wore a new outfit from the first store for the rest of the trip; a white button up under a navy sweatshirt with denim jeans and new sneakers. She kept her red beanie.

On and on they went, store to store; Danielle didn’t care for jewelry or purses though bought a messenger bag that fit on her back with a strap across her front.

She didn’t care for skirts or dresses but agreed to a couple for her grandmother’s sake; they were blue.

She preferred sneakers to boots or heels, though got a pair of each in black, and preferred low tops to high.

Paulina bought her a beginner’s makeup kit geared towards tweens as a gift.

It was evening when they finished, the mall near closing; their purchases were stuffed into the limo and Paulina was dropped at her home.

“Won’t say it was fun,” Sam said, she hated shopping like that, “but…thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Paulina flipped her hair, “but…back to normal on Monday?”

“Oh, god yes.”

“Good.”

Without saying goodbye, Paulina entered her home, “Papi, I’ve had the weirdest day.”

Chapter Text

IKEA Almost Wins Again:

Jack, Danny, and Tucker were all very smart people but even they were having trouble building the loft bed for Danielle’s room.

While the girls were out shopping, the boys were determined to give the guest room at FentonWorks a makeover of its’ own.

Danny was determined to build his daughter’s bed; he had missed the chance to build a nursery but he was determined to make this room for her.

They had already used quick-drying paint to paint the walls a light blue that Danielle had picked out herself.

They had moved out the Queen-sized bed and all the other furniture before painting.

Now, they just had to put the new furniture together.

If they could; the bed was currently defeating them.

“The blueprints have to be wrong,” Tucker complained.

“The blueprints aren’t wrong, Tuck,” Danny replied, fitting together two pieces to create a right angle of wood.

“I dunno, Danno,” Jack said dubiously.

“We’re not throwing away the blueprints,” Danny said firmly, “because last time a Fenton built a bed without blueprints they somehow made an anti-ghost ray gun. Nobody still knows how. I’m not going to create a weapon that can hurt me and my daughter just because we got frustrated!”

“Dude, calm down,” Tucker muttered, squinting at the blueprints and the pieces, “oh. Okay, I see.”

Within the hour they had the bed in place; then they had to figure out the desk and chair.

After the desk and chair were built, Tucker took over to set up and upgrade the computer.

They left him to his unholy work.

They had everything together by the time the others got home.

Danielle walked into her room with wonder.

Vlad had given her a room, true, but it had never felt like hers.

This felt like home.

Chapter Text

To Be a Real Girl (Legally Speaking):

“I can redecorate?”

Danielle was standing in a room at the Manson Mansion; it was not hers just yet.

It was pretty and cheery but a little too sterile for anything but a guest room.

“Of course, dear,” Pamela agreed indulgently.

Pamela may have been upset at the whole situation but it wasn’t Danielle’s fault; wasn’t Samantha’s, or even Daniel’s.

Some Creep had made her a granddaughter and almost used her as a weapon.

In fact, she was proud of Samantha and Daniel for stepping up. They had quickly worked out a custody arrangement.

Now it was Pamela’s turn to help. Her grandbaby would only get the best, after all.

Danielle gave a small smile.

So they spent the day going over furniture catalogues and paint samples; Danielle didn’t want her rooms to be too alike.

While she, like Samantha, shied away from pastels, Danielle’s bedroom turned out to be tasteful and understated.

And not the gothic masterpiece of her mother’s room.

Danielle’s taste seemed to run more mainstream but not overly gendered.

Pity but Pamela indulged her.

Both Samantha and Daniel had been very clear about letting the child make her own decisions when possible; the Creep had tried to mold her into what he wanted.

And she could respect that; Samantha was very independent herself. It made sense she would raise her child to be the same.

Judicious application of money and Name had the furniture delivered within hours of being ordered and contractors painted the room and put the furniture together for them.

Samantha appeared afterwards, looking exhausted but triumphant as she handed Danielle a file of papers.

Danielle opened it to find a birth certificate. A Social Security Number. Everything she needed to legally exist.

“That’s why I couldn’t help with your room,” Samantha said softly, hugging Danielle, “I was working with your Grandpa Jeremy, Grandma Ida, and the lawyers.”

“I’m—real now?” Danielle trembled, nearly dropping the paperwork; Pamela took it so she could hug her mother.

“Oh, honey; you’ve always been real,” Samantha murmured, “this just makes it official. We’re gonna hire tutors, get you caught up, send you to school, everything. Your Dad’s getting things sorted in the Zone for you, so you’re official there too.”

Danielle cried.

Chapter Text

Anakin's First Foundling:

Anakin arrived at the Temple through a portal near the Creche, in his arms a little girl who was sniffling into his clothes.

“Anakin,” Crechemaster Kire greeted.

“Crechemaster,” he replied, before lifting the little girl higher, “I…er…Found her, I guess?”

“You…guess?”

“A portal opened over my home,” Anakin explained, “and a little shuttle came out, and she was the only one in it. The Force is telling me to bring her here? So I don’t know if that counts as Finding because I think the Force brought her to me, not the other way around.”

“Ah, I see,” Kire nodded before kneeling, “Hello, little one. Do you have a name? My name is Kire.”

She couldn’t have been older than four but the little girl shook her head, “Obi-wan Kenobi—they took my name.”

“Who did?” Anakin demanded gently, knowing that sometimes Slavemasters would steal slave names. Shmi had told him so, while telling him what his name meant in the slave language of Tatooine.

“Everyone. They said I was Obi-wan now.”

Kire sighed, “Stewjoni then; they reject their Force-sensitives.”

“What?”

“Some cultures do not particularly care for Force-sensitives,” Kire explained to the outraged Anakin, “some will outright murder them. This little one is lucky.”

“Oh, honey,” Anakin said to little Obi-wan, “you’re safe here. I promise—Crechemaster Kire, what’s the protocol for Finding someone? I know she goes to the Creche but is there any way I can keep in contact ‘til she settles or maybe Mister Obi-wan?”

“You’ll fill out some paperwork,” Kire explained, “about how you Found her. She’ll be looked over by the Healers. We’ll fill in as much of her cultural background as possible through research and talking to other Stewjoni Jedi—that is, Master Kenobi. She’ll be tested and placed in the appropriate Clan. I will ask the Council if you may receive progress reports until she’s a Padawan after which it will be her Master’s decision. I know your case was irregular, Anakin, but we do have rules Jedi and prospective Jedi must adhere to.”

“I know birth-culture can be important to Jedi,” Anakin knew that from Miss Shaak Ti who took Togruta Jedi home to undergo coming of age rituals, “what can we do for her?”

Kire shrugged helplessly, “We don’t know much about the Stewjoni; Master Kenobi was just an infant when he was Found. They’re extremely isolated by choice.”

“Ancients dammit,” Anakin swore lowly.

Then he knelt, set little Obi-wan on her feet, and explained, “Crechemaster Kire will look after you. The Jedi will be your new family, okay? It’ll be alright, little one.”

Obi-wan nodded and followed a creche-aide who Kire had commed; Kire herself led Anakin off to do paperwork.

Oh, what fun.

Chapter Text

Kouga and Imari:

It was a sunny, cool day, a slight breeze ruffling the grass and trees as Luke, Leia, and Imari ran around the field set aside for play.

The twins were older than Imari chronologically but in every other way they were at the same level of development so they were able play together.

Meaning, all three could toddle around and play with toys geared towards their age group while their parents watched.

“I know there’s trouble here too,” Padme sighed, “but it’s so peaceful.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

“Wolf!”

“Youkai!”

“Lord InuYasha!” came the cries as everyone lurched into battle ready stances, the children corralled by Kirara.

Kouga appeared, “What’s this I heard about a wolf hanyou?”

“Sesshomaru brought her to us,” Miroku said peaceably, even as he readied his sutras, “our pack is raising her. There is no need for you or your tribe to be involved, Kouga.”

Kouga spied the little hanyou and made to move only for something to pass by his head.

“One more step towards my niece and the next one will be center mass,” Padme spoke serenely, even as she stood in front of the children and next to the now large Kirara.

“Padme,” Anakin said with concern.

“Shield us, now, Ani.”

Anakin stepped closer and put a dome shaped shield around the six of them.

Kouga looked wary about the new weapon pointed at him, “Surely, you don’t want a bastard? It would be better for every—”

There was a sword at his throat and the strange light-sword was at more sensitive parts, “Watch yer words, Wolf,” InuYasha snarled, “that’s my daughter you’re talking about.”

“You actually want that thing?” Kouga laughed, sneering, backing away from the swords as he did so, “I guess half-breeds stick together. Fine. Keep it. But if I see it on wolf youkai lands, it dies!”

Kouga yelped, his shoulder unharmed but smoking.

Padme had shot him with her blaster.

But the surprise was the purifying arrow that followed the blast, flying past his ear in warning, “Get the hell outta my village, Kouga!” Kagome ordered, “Or I will let InuYasha and Anakin kill you this time.”

“Kagome…” Kouga blinked, stunned. He had seen the priestess angry, sure, but never truly at him!

“No. Not this time. Now, since you’re so concerned about hanyou and territory, you’re on InuYasha’s. Get the hell out of our village.”

“It’s only a half-breed,” Kouga pled, hoping she’d see sense, or at least calm down.

“She’s my daughter!”

He reared back as if struck.

A priestess claiming a half-breed as a child? What in the world? Sure he had once held affection for the human, but he hadn’t been planning to breed her! Everyone knew the half-breeds were abominations.

Kouga gave her one last, pitying, look before he left.

Obviously, the mutt’s entire ‘pack’ was delusional; Kagome was too far gone.

They stayed quiet for a few minutes, as InuYasha, Kagome, and Anakin tracked the wolf’s way from the village, before there was a collective sigh of relief.

Chapter Text

Enter, Kara Zor-El:

They carried the strange casket like object to the King and Queen.

“There are got life-signs, Great One,” Frostbite said, scanning the object.

Danny paled; her recognized the symbol of the casket, “Sam, call the Kents. That’s Kryptonian. House of El if I’m not mistaken.”

She nodded and hurried to make the call while Danny called up the army; hopefully, whatever, whoever was in the capsule was friendly. Barring that, hopefully they were human-weak.

“Oh my,” Martha Kent said when she arrived with her family, “that looks like the ship we found Clark in!”

The Kryptonians stiffened.

“My soldiers found it floating in the Realms,” Danny explained, “still has life-signs. We didn’t want to open it until we had back up. Not after Zod.”

Everyone nodded; Clark handed Chris over to Jonathan as he, Kon, and Jon prepped for a fight.

“Ready.”

There was a hiss of escaping atmosphere as they opened the capsule to find a blonde teenage girl; she was in stasis but her eyes fluttered open.

Blue like Clark’s.

“Huh?” she yawned, sitting up and looking around, “where am I, where’s—”

“Welcome, friend,” Clark greeted, “I’m Kal-El—“

“Kal-El?” she squinted at him, going pale, “you—Kal’s just a baby!”

Clark paused, “Miss, I’m over thirty years old—who’re you?”

“I’m Kara Zor-El,” Kara shook her head, “I don’t understand. How can you be so old? You were—I was supposed to look after you on Terra!”

“I think your capsule got lost,” Clark said kindly, helping his cousin—a cousin! Someone who remembered Krypton!—out of her capsule and to her feet, “I arrived on time, I think. Two humans—the dominant species on Terra—adopted me as their own. They gave them a human name too, Clark Kent.”

Jonathan stepped forward, “Hello, Kara. I’m Jonathan Kent Senior, my wife and I raised Clark.”

Kara greeted him back; then she met the rest of the family, only blinking at the clones briefly before looking around, “This’s Terra?”

“No,” Danny intervened, “this is—a realm between dimensions where the Restless Dead exist along with several other species. Your…shuttle must have gone through a portal to here. My soldiers found it floating. I’m Danny, the King. Me and my Queen are friends with the Kents. Through Clark we know a little Kryptonian.”

“So when we recognized it, we called Clark. I’m Sam, the Queen,” Sam continued, “we’ve dealt with…unfriendly Kryptonians before.”

“Who?”

“Zod.”

Kara paled again, “He…he’s in the Phantom Zone!”

“He broke out,” Clark shook his head, “without the King’s help, there would be many more dead than there actually was. Zod tried to takeover Earth—what the humans call Terra—and make it a new Krypton. He had a band of Kryptonian criminals with him.”

Then Clark smiled, “but, enough about him, let’s get you to Earth.”

Danny opened a portal to the Kent Farm and Kara Zor-El took her first steps onto her new planet.

Chapter Text

Luke and Leia Meet Their First Teachers:

“Miss Raven, Miss Zatanna, and Mister J’onn,” Anakin beamed, “please meet my son and daughter, Luke and Leia.”

The three cooed over the babies.

“May I?” J’onn asked.

“Of course, Mister J’onn.”

J’onn gently, carefully touched Luke’s mind first; a surface scan. But even a surface scan could pick up the sheer Power the boy had.

Luke cooed at the touch and sent back fuzzy though vaguely understandable feelings of curiosity and contentment.

Leia was much the same; the twins were really too young to be too different from each other yet.

“I offer my services in teaching them,” J’onn smiled, taking Leia into his arms.

Raven went next in investigating the children; she too found the raw, sheer Power they held.

So much Power that together they could possibly match their father’s.

“I too will teach them,” she decided, taking Luke.

“Well, I’m in,” Zatanna decided, “these kids are Powerful. Are you planning on asking the Jedi for help?”

“When they’re older, yes,” Padme spoke up, “Obi-wan and Ashoka have already agreed to take them on even if the Jedi don’t approve it. Whether they want to be true Jedi will be their choice.”

“I can teach them a lot but,” Anakin paused before continuing sheepishly, “I’m so Powerful I can’t really teach them the basics. Because I didn’t actually need the basics, they just made things easier.”

His three former teachers nodded as one; Anakin’s Power was something…intrinsic. Always in hand. He didn’t need to call upon the Force because it was always with him, in him, waiting, wanting to be used.

They had seen things similar to Anakin’s Power yet they had never seen the sort of Power he had.

That his children would be similar was a no-brainer and yet…yet somehow a surprise as well. Perhaps it was the amount of Power each twin had, as if their father’s Power had simply been split in two.

Would their Power grow to match his?

Nobody knew for sure; there had been few Force-users as provably Powerful as Anakin and most didn’t have children for one reason or another.

However, for now they were just children who would need support as they grew like all children.

Chapter Text

A Manson Gala:

Whispers followed them around the party.

The Manson Heiress had a baby strapped to her chest, one she introduced as her son, and a young man on her arm.

(Danielle had opted to stay with her Fenton grandparents)

Danny received many glares from other Heirs, many who had hoped to woo the Heiress, or barring that, arrange a marriage to her.

But now she was not only off the market but sullied as well.

It did not help that her young man was obviously not of their social class, no matter how obviously well he had been coached on the etiquette.

Danny for his part followed Sam’s lead and focused on just getting through the party without embarrassing her or the Mansons too badly.

He wasn’t stupid; as far as the other guests knew he was a no-name nobody, or worse, the son of eccentric scientists.

He also knew how bad it looked; two teenagers and a baby.

But he politely ignored the whispers, just as Sam did.

But, alas, a scene happened; Damian puked all over Sam’s gown.

“Oh dear,” Pamela came scurrying up to them, “is he quite alright?”

“Reflux,” Sam sighed, ignoring the dripping vomit, “but we planned for this.”

“Of course,” Pamela nodded and chivvied her daughter and grandson out of the room.

They had planned for this situation; Sam had several identical gowns waiting and there were multiple copies of Damian’s little suit.

Sam quickly stripped down, then undressed Damian before taking him into a quick shower with her. Then she rediapered and redressed him before redressing herself and redoing her hair and makeup.

“Let’s go save Daddy from the piranhas,” she told Damian, kissing his cheek and putting him in a new wrap on her chest.

Danny had stayed out of the way of the other partygoers, mainly talking with Sam’s grandmother who had always accepted him and Sam.

Several people had politely approached them and made small talk, though they were few and far between; most were happy, if not proud, to ignore Danny’s existence.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Sam and Damian reappeared, “He okay?”

She handed him Damian, who he cuddled to his chest, “He’s fine. I think maybe the dancing we did earlier upset his stomach.”

“Oh, the poor little darling,” someone said, and they turned to find an older woman joining them.

“Missus Jonson,” Sam greeted politely, “Danny, Missus Jonson. Missus Jonson, Danny Fenton and Damian Fenton-Manson.”

“Well, isn’t he adorable,” Missus Jonson cooed over Damian, “I heard he was adopted? You’re so young!”

“Special circumstances, classified,” Sam replied, “or else we never would’ve adopted him. Like, legally. We had to do so much. But he’s ours now.”

Missus Jonson nodded understandingly, “Well, he’s clearly loved and well cared for! Don’t mind the naysayers, dears. My husband, rest his soul, wasn’t born to all this either and he did just fine! It’s lovely to see young love again.”

She monopolized the teens’ time for the rest of the night, introducing more friendly partygoers to the young couple and helping Danny not make a fool of himself.

By the end of the night, Danny had not made too many mistakes but also promised himself to get more etiquette lessons.

Chapter Text

Yoda, the Twins, and Anakin:

“Oh, thank the Ancients!” Anakin exclaimed as he found his children with Yoda. The three of them were in one of the Quiet Rooms used for Younglings overly sensitive to the Force. He quickly sent out a mass comm that he had found them.

“Brought them here, the Force did,” Yoda explained, “to me, a portal opened. Out, they tumbled. Strong they are. Played we did before a nap required was.”

The twins were sleeping on either side of Yoda himself.

“I am so sorry, Grandfather,” Anakin apologized.

Yoda grinned, “Fun, I had. My grandchildren they are. Took over my duties, other Jedi have for the day.”

Anakin relaxed, “Still, I hope they weren’t too much trouble.”

“Trouble they were not,” Yoda harrumphed, before repeating “strong they are. Argue, I will, for their inclusion and training. Luke my Padawan will be.”

Anakin blinked, “Are you sure, Grandfather? I know my case was unique but—”

“Telling me—showing me—the Force is,” Yoda shrugged, “Luke my Padawan will be. Leia’s teacher I know not yet. Unique, Skywalkers will be but trained they must be. Too dangerous they are otherwise.”

Anakin nodded slowly, exhaling, “My former teachers—before Mister Obi-wan—are already working with them.”

Yoda perked up, “Alive they still are?”

Anakin moved closer and folded to the floor, saying quietly, “Mister J’onn isn’t human and he’s considered middle-aged for his species. Miss Raven too; she’s half-demon so she’s physically younger than a human her age. Miss Zatanna’s older but magic lengthens her lifespan anyways. And Mister Obi-wan was young too, remember?”

“Perhaps for a student too young,” Yoda agreed, “but Will of the Force it was. Many arguments had about training you who would. Many of my lineages considered were. Offered even I did.”

Anakin hadn’t known that had ever been up for discussion; he knew he and Mister Obi-wan were Fated in a platonic way; didn’t every teacher-student pair know the same way?

“Strong in the Force are you,” Yoda reminded when he voiced the thought, “have films of your life you do. Know much less powerful Jedi do not.”

Anakin smiled sheepishly; he hadn’t thought about it like that.

Yoda stood, “To home, you should take your children. Worry, Senator Amidala must.”

Anakin did as suggested.

Chapter Text

To Walk in the Sun:

The portal opened.

“Yer Highness,” Spike greeted the sopping wet princess.

“Whoever tossed it into the ocean, I just want to talk,” Danielle said, turning intangible and leaving a puddle of what smelled like saltwater.

“The Slayer and her mates ain’t home,” Spike said, holding Hope, “’cept Glinda—”

“I’m here,” Tara appeared, curtsying, “Your Highness.”

“Nope, I’m here for Spike,” Danielle shook her head before reaching out her fisted hand and opening it to reveal a ring.

Spike quickly put Hope into her pen and then stared at the ring, “Where—why?”

“Clockwork says you’ve earned it back,” Danielle shrugged.

“Is that—?” Tara floated closer, eyes wide.

“The Gem of Amara? I guess?” Danielle pointed to the puddle, “Clockwork sent me to grab it for Spike. Said it would let Spike be a real boy—not in those words.”

Spike took it with shaky hands and slipped it on; Tara opened the curtains, letting sunlight in.

Staying in the shadows, Spike stuck a hand into the sun.

It didn’t burn.

It did not even tingle.

Spike began to cry.

And he wasn’t ashamed to either.

Hope was growing every day and soon she would be asking questions and realizing her daddy was a monster in the dark.

Soon she would be heading to school and having to hide that her daddy wasn’t able to walk in the sun meaning no sleepovers or PTA meetings or parent-teacher meetings or chaperoning fieldtrips.

Except, now he could. He would still be a monster but he could pass as a human now. Walk in the sun. Take his sprog to the park while the sun was shining.

Walk hand-in-hand with his bird as she dragged him shopping or out with her mates or wherever they wanted to go. Maybe even the beach.

Danielle and Tara consoled him; Tara went to make some tea, real tea not the American swill passing as tea while Danielle made him sit down.

“Open the curtains,” Spike cried; Danielle did so and light flooded the house.

Ever since Spike had moved in, the curtains had been always closed in the Summers’ House. Nobody, not even Xander, not seriously anyway, wanted the vampire to Dust.

Hope squealed at the light; Spike started laughing, getting up to pick her up and dance with her in the sunlight.

He laughed harder, crying still, when Buffy arrived and charged in.

“SPIKE!”

He held out the hand with the ring on it.

Buffy’s eyes went wide as she recognized that ring.

“Buffy,” he rumbled happily, “Her Highness brought it to me; that Clockwork bloke said I earned it back.”

Buffy started crying and laughing as well as she lunged at the vampire, embracing him and their daughter in the sunlight.

Life was good.

Chapter Text

The Scoobies and Danny against the Watchers' Council:

“As the Council has made a stupid decision,” stated a new voice and the Watchers turned to find a new being in their midst, “we’ve elected to ignore it.”

“And who, or rather, what are you?” Quentin Travers demanded as they readied their stakes and crucifixes.

“Danny Phantom, Ghost King and Dawn Summers' other guardian,” Danny said with a bow.

“Slayer!” Travers blustered but Buffy scoffed.

“Yeah, no. Danny’s family,” she rolled her eyes, “’sides, even if I wanted to slay him, he’s too powerful for me. Spike?”

“Don’t think I could take him either, Slayer,” Spike admitted with a frown, swaying with Hope on his hip, “don’t think we could even working together with your little merry band of misfits.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Danny told the Watchers’ Council, “if I really wanted, I could wipe life on this planet out—or well, my army could. Anyways. So you want to make Buffy pack up and move to…Cleveland? Now, from what I’ve heard, you don’t pay her enough, or at all, to leave Sunnydale life behind. As far as I know, they’re using Dawn’s and Hope’s child support and the Magic Box profits to stay afloat. Xander Harris is also paying some of Buffy’s bills from his construction jobs.”

“Buffy can’t keep a job,” Willow voiced, “none of us really can.”

“Because you all have to be ready to go at a moment’s notice, I know,” Danny sighed, “therefore, and to further make sure Buffy does not have to rely on the Watchers’ Council, where they fail her anyways, I’ll be personally paying all the so called Scoobies for their time.”

“WHAT?!” everyone chorused.

“Open a bank account each,” Danny instructed, “and I will deposit, monthly, enough to cover your costs. In return, you continue Slaying, protecting Hope and Dawn, and occasionally be on call for me.”

“Uh…I’d like to see the contract,” Buffy ignored the spluttering of the Watchers’ Council, “but I think we’ll agree. Anya?”

“I’ll handle the money and contracts,” the former demon agreed happily.

“Know we can count on you, demon girl,” Spike nodded.

“Excuse me?” Travers roared.

Buffy sighed, rolling her eyes, “We’ve been over this, when Glory was running around. Which Danny helped with, no thanks to you. I don’t need you; you need me. My team’s been with me through thick and thin, yes, including the vamp.”

She began pacing, “See, the way I see things, we could work together but you’re too stuck in ye olden days to do it. You see me and every Slayer as a weapon, not a person. But I am a person and you hate that I wasn’t brainwashed by Giles or the Council or whoever to not be one. I’m supposed to be like Kendra—”

“Who?” said one of the Watchers.

“See, you don’t care about the Slayer,” Buffy pointed accusingly, “Kendra was the Slayer called after I died to the Master. My friend CPR’d me back. Kendra was the Perfect Slayer and you don’t even know her name.”

“You…died?” A Watcher asked dumbly.

“Has the Council read none of my reports?” Giles demanded sharply, “I dutifully reported her death and resuscitation by manual means. I reported that she drowned and that Alexander Harris—one of her cohort—used skills learned at school to revive her.”

There were murmurings and some looks of shame.

“Unbelievable. Did you not notice the activation of a second Slayer or did you just ignore the Sunnydale situation completely?”

A damning silence and Buffy threw up her hands, “So, Giles was a good Watcher for the, as far as you knew, only Slayer, and you don’t even glance at his work? Did you look at Wesley’s or no?”

More silence.

“Wow,” Danny spoke up, clapping slowly, “just, wow. You know, when I took on Dawnie, I was read in. I actually did my homework about the situation. Giles, can you send me copies of all your reports? Going forward? I promise I’ll read them. I’d like to be kept informed of the situation.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Giles bowed his head briefly.

“Same with Buffy,” Danny added.

“What?”

“I’d like after-action reports from you.” Danny explained, “that way we can maybe catch another hellgod or Master situation early.”

“Fine,” she huffed but nodded, “Giles will have to teach me how though.”

“Of course I will,” Giles agreed.

“This is highly irregular!” exclaimed another Watcher.

“This’s Sunnydale, mate,” Spike handed off Hope to Xander.

“Now,” Buffy said firmly, “get the hell outta my town. I’m not moving. You really want a Slayer, try Faith—”

“Who’s Faith?”

“Unbelievable.”

Chapter Text

Crossing the Streams:

“CC-2224, sir!”

“Your name, if you have one.” Obi-wan was gentle.

He thought he knew who he was dealing with but it was impossible.

“Cody…General? Are you alright?” Cody voiced.

Obi-wan rocked back; he was right.

Commander Cody, clone soldier.

But how?

“Sitrep, what were you doing before you—oh kark! With me, Commander!”

He bustled Cody to the Halls of Healing, very nearly screaming at people to get out of their way.

Cody probably had a chip in his brain; he was a ticking time bomb.

A portal opened in front of them and Anakin stepped out, dragging a man nearly identical to Cody out with him.

Captain Rex.

“Mister Obi-wan!” Anakin called, “Grandfather Clockwork—”

“Not now, Anakin,” the four entered the Halls, “chips first then debriefs.”

Within the hour, the men were de-chipped and brought up to speed.

“Karking Force kark,” Rex muttered over a cup of tea.

“There’s no way back?” Cody asked.

“No,” said Clockwork, who had arrived during the surgeries, apologetically, “however, this was the best result for you two and I apologize for uprooting you so suddenly.”

“And the chips?” Cody asked.

“Slave chips disguised as inhibitor chips,” Anakin spat, “there were hardcoded orders ready and waiting to be triggered.”

“The order we most worried about,” Obi-wan continued, “is number 66. Once triggered, Order 66 causes all clones under it to attack Jedi, no matter the age.”

“Which’s why we dragged you to get the chips out before anything else,” Anakin finished grimly before addressing the two men, “I’ve already called my wife; she’s a senator and knows the best lawyers. We’ll get you set up. Until then, you’re welcome to our spare rooms on Naboo.”

“I will be speaking to the Council about you,” Obi-wan admitted, “we may declare you part of the Order in order to protect you. If you wish I can also contact Mandalore, the Duchess may accept you as citizens if you vow to give up your warrior ways.”

“We’d like to stay with the Jedi, if possible, Master Kenobi,” Cody said for both, “our Jedi specifically. We were…made to accompany you, work with you.”

“I’m not really a Jedi, Rex,” Anakin warned, “I was trained as one but I’m not considered one, not really. I have a wife and kids and a big family.”

“That’s okay, General,” Rex grinned, “my General was the karking best and worst Jedi. Everyone knew about his wife—Senator Amidala, right?—so it won’t be too different there.”

Obi-wan fondly rolled his eyes.

Anakin grinned, “Then once you two are released we’ll head to my family while Mister Obi-wan talks to the Council.”

“If I may sir, I’ll accompany Master Kenobi,” Cody said, “the other Gen—Masters may have questions.”

“That is true,” Obi-wan agreed, “alright, you may come along. Anakin, perhaps you can start feeling out therapists—”

“Therapists, sir?”

“You’ve just come from an active war and been placed in a peaceful galaxy,” Obi-wan explained, “you’ll need help adjusting. It is nothing to be ashamed of and Anakin’s father has many therapists you can choose from.”

“Okay, sir. We’ll talk to these therapists.”

“It is your choice, but thank you.”

Chapter Text

Dick Tells Damian Something:

“We’re holding a commitment ceremony,” Dick nearly wiggled as he explained to Damian, “not a wedding. I could marry Kori or Wally—”

“But not both at once,” Damian nodded, “however, you wish to affirm your relationships with them.”

“Exactly!” Dick nodded, “Now we’re gonna have a lot of people there, the Titans and The Justice League and even the Sirens, along with us Bats. But I wanted to invite you—and your family—personally.”

“My entire family?” Damian raised an eyebrow.

“Of course! All the Phantoms by name or magic or whatever. The more the merrier. We’ll even have blood for Spike if he comes,” Dick assured.

“Very well, I shall speak to Father and Mother,” Damian nodded again, “we three will likely attend even if nobody else desires to. We will inform you of our number attending as soon as possible. I will also send servants to help prepare the Manor—it will be held at the Manor, yes?”

“Yes, oh Dami,” Dick lifted his youngest brother, “I’m so happy!”

“As you should be, Richard. Have you proposed to your paramours yet?”

“Yes. Rings and all. They said yes. They both said yes, Dami!”

“Of course, they agreed, Richard. They are both deeply in love with you. The fact that they have agreed to share instead of forcing you to choose speaks volumes. What of children, Richard? Are you planning for offspring?”

Dick set him down, saying very seriously, “Yes, we’ve all talked about kids. Kori needs at least two biological children, because she has a throne. Wally and I are planning to look into a surrogate once Kori and I have at least one child past the age of two. Wally will be the biological father of those children but I will adopt them as my own. Both have agreed to adopt the other’s children. We may also just outright adopt if we find a child that calls to us—like Bruce with us.”

Damian nodded. It made sense that Koriand’r required blood heirs and obviously, even if she were willing, nobody wanted a speedster Tamaranean. It also made sense that they may just adopt as Uncle Bruce had.

“What of the legalities of the…arrangement? Do you require–” Damian questioned next.

“Wayne lawyers got all that stuff sorted,” Dick assured, “we’re as covered as legally possible without a marriage license; it took some work but it’s done, all signed and everything. Technically we don’t need the ceremony but we want one.”

“And outfits? My sister-in-law is a designer—”

“All taken care of, Dami. Haven’t seen them yet but Kori and Wally went to the Wayne’s normal tailor and seamstress. So did I. C’mon.”

Dick led Damian to his bedroom and showed him the dark navy three piece suit; it was a shade or two darker than his Nightwing suit, being almost black unless under light.

Damian grilled him on the ceremony, the design of it, what colors they had picked.

Dick beamed as they spoke.

Chapter Text

The Ceremony:

The day had dawned, and the grounds of Wayne Manor were…not exactly lively as a flood of ghosts were prepping the grounds but busy.

Alfred wasn’t quite unhappy with the extra hands but he did resent being turned into a commander and then told to mostly relax.

The Phantoms, most of them at least, had arrived early with a small army of servants willing to help.

The bride and grooms were being distracted by family and friends and not allowed to see each other; Damian was being used to ferry messages between the three.

He took the task with dignity and did so swiftly when asked. He was the only male allowed in Koriand’r’s room and took the honor seriously.

He slid through the cracked door, announcing, “Miss Anders, Richard proclaims his love for you again and his surety that you are a work of art in your gown…” then he added, “I think Richard’s become slightly hysterical with his love for you and Wallace.”

Kori giggled, staying still so Marinette could finish the last-minute alterations needed, while the other women keeping her company just outright laughed.

“Adrien was the same on our wedding day,” Marinette said knowingly.

“It’s sweet,” Buffy agreed, “you should’ve heard Spike under a love spell—we were planning a wedding and he just spouted poetry for me every other word. Turns out it wasn’t exactly the spell; he still recites poetry for me.”

“You’re not married?” Stephanie asked, cocking her head.

“Kinda hard to get married when the groom’s undead,” Buffy said dryly, “and gets hives—literal hives—from consecrated grounds that aren’t graveyards or cemeteries. Any ceremony we hold would be a big freaking beacon too, to every nasty to come gatecrash.”

Everyone nodded in understanding.

“We were planning—under the spell of course—to hold the ceremony in the most active cemetery. We did find a pretty spot that didn’t look too gloomy,” Buffy added thoughtfully, before shrugging, “I’m not even sure he could get through the vows without Dusting. Marriage is holy right?”

“Sometimes,” Selina agreed before saying, “Bruce and I aren’t quite married either, Steph—common-law.”

“I’ve been married to the Doctor so many times they all cancel each other out or else we’re practicing polyamory with ourselves,” Rose stuck her head into the room, “twenty minutes, girls. Tick-tock!”

“And done,” Marinette stood up, packing away her emergency sewing kit, “whoever did your dress was very good at their job, Miss Anders.”

“Please, call me Kori,” Kori spoke, “thank you for your work.”

“It really was no problem,” Marinette replied modestly.

Marinette turned to Damian, “Do Dick or Wally need—?”

“No, they have tailors with them,” Damian replied, “Uncle Bruce has made sure. He also thanks you for your work and desires to pay you.”

“No, family’s free,” Marinette waved that away, “the Waynes are family so they don’t need to pay for some small things.”

The women busied themselves, finishing getting ready as Damian slipped back out.

He headed back to Richard’s room, darting gracefully around the somewhat harried servants following Alfred’s every order.

He made it just as Richard and the groom’s party exited the room, “There you are, Dami! Jon was looking for you. I think he’s already out back.”

Damian nodded and walked with the party to where everything was set up and indeed found Jon waiting, fairly buzzing with excitement.

The two friends greeted each other and it was time to take their seats as Richard moved into place at the not-altar, under an arch of red, purple, and blue flowers specifically grown by Doctor Isley for the ceremony.

Wallace came out first, as the music began, being escorted by Barry.

The music died down as he stepped up to the officiant and Richard.

The ceremony was short, abbreviated for fear of interruptions, but no less heartfelt for it.

After kissing Richard, Wallace stepped aside, assuming the role of Best Man, and Koriand’r walked down the aisle as the music played.

This ceremony was just as brief, each hero alert for anything out of the ordinary as the couple said their vows and then kissed.

Nothing.

No rampaging supervillain, possessed friend, or invasion had happened.

They had done it.

One peaceful event.

There wasn’t a dry eye as cheers of joy and relief started while Richard walked his partners back down the aisle as the officiant announced the three of them as the new Grayson-West-Waynes.

Bruce was sobbing along with Barry; their sons were all but married.

The Titans were hooting and hollering for Koriand’r, taking the place of her family, clapping uproariously.

Even little Lian, on her Aunt Raven’s lap as her father had stood with Wallace, was clapping along.

Life was good.

Chapter Text

Danny and Christmas:

“I am not going to let you two ruin her Christmases,” Danny told his parents.

“Dan—”

“No, enough. Ask Jazz, you’ve ruined Christmas for us every year with the same stupid argument. I don’t care anymore but I won’t have you destroy it for Dani.”

He was firm.

He was polite but firm.

Memories of his own ruined Christmases and the hard-learned lesson taught by GhostWriter were at the forefront of his mind.

“I don’t care if Santa’s real or not,” he continued, staring his parents down, “really. We’re not even doing Santa for Dani. We’ll tell her the stories but we won’t pretend to be Santa. So if he shows up, fine, if not, oh well.”

Both elder Fentons opened their mouths.

“We will not be putting down a landing strip for the sled or arming the Defense Systems,” Danny talked over them, “the Realms have a Truce on Christmas—twelve to twelve—and we don’t need to worry.”

Maddie blinked, “A truce?”

“Yes. So everyone can celebrate like they want to,” Danny nodded, “I’ve cleared my schedule and Clockwork’s watching the throne. Christmas Eve will be a Ball that Dani and I have to go to, as Princess and King respectively, but Christmas is free. Sam will be celebrating with us—just like I did Hanukkah with her family.”

Both adults nodded.

Danny had gone to the Mansons’ with Danielle each night of Hanukkah to mark it; Danielle was curious about her mother’s religion and beliefs and the Mansons’ had welcomed her, and by extension Danny, with open arms.

The Fentons would do the same with Sam gladly; Christmas wasn’t religious for them anyways.

It would be easy to fold another into their celebrations.

“So, here’s the deal,” Danny smiled thinly, “you two stay quiet about Santa or next Christmas will be held in the Realms and you won’t be invited.”

The Fentons agreed to stop their annual argument for the sake of their granddaughter.

Chapter Text

Christmas Day:

Christmas day was announced by Danielle pouncing on her father, screaming, “Santa came guys!”

That woke everyone up.

Everyone thundered downstairs, still half asleep.

There were more presents than there should have been, the cookies were gone and the milk drunk.

“Dad,” Danny hissed warningly.

“Not me this time, Danno,” Jack scratched the back of his head unsurely.

Danny checked one of ‘Santa’s’ presents and found the handwriting to be nothing he recognized. Not his Dad’s, Mom’s, Jazz’s, or his, not even Sam’s.

He passed it to Sam, but she shook her head. None of her family then.

“Lemme go ask—” he began.

Clockwork appeared, “Season’s Greetings, my King and his family. The being you know as Santa Claus is real. He is an Ancient.”

“Then why—” Jack was questioning as Maddie’s jaw dropped.

“He noticed your Defense Systems through the years and thought he was disinvited. This year, however, he was not disinvited as your Defenses were down.”

“Ancients dammit, Mom!” Jazz muttered as Clockwork left.

Maddie flushed with mortification as Jack whooped and danced in victory.

“Dad? Mom?” Danielle said unsurely.

“It’s okay.”

Everyone got into position and presents were passed out, opened, and marveled over; even the Mansons had sent along presents for Danielle, though they themselves didn’t celebrate Christmas.

Danielle in fact got the lion’s share of gifts; clothes and toys and tech, everything a girl her apparent age could need or want.

(They may have gone overboard, and Santa hadn’t helped.)

The rest of the day was spent prepping the evening meal and, for the ghosts, meeting with their frenemies to exchange well wishes.

Despite his ascension, Danny’s rogues treated him like nothing had changed unless he was acting as King.

Many ghosts who were unable to attend the Ball the previous day stopped by to wish the King and his mortal family well.

(All the ghosts treated Sam like the King’s wife, his Queen)

Jack and Maddie were in heaven as they were able to ask questions of the many ghosts and advance their research.

The ghosts stopped arriving by mid-afternoon and dinner was served soon after.

The Fentons made sure everything was kosher and there were plenty of vegan options.

It was the best Christmas the Fentons had ever had.

Chapter Text

The Mansons Have Questions:

“You’re breastfeeding,” Pamela pointed out.

“Frostbite’s—you met him, the yeti doctor—people have this…potion,” Sam explained as she cuddled Damain close, letting Danny and Tucker have a day to sleep, “it messes with the hormones or something so a woman yeti can breastfeed if she can’t naturally. They sequenced my DNA and created a variation of the potion. I have to keep taking it weekly or I might dry up.”

“But wouldn’t him nursing keep—”

“It’s magic, dad, magic and science not meant for human use,” she explained tiredly, “Frostbite tried explaining it, I have the pamphlet somewhere. But I don’t have the…”

“Knowledge,” her mother finished with a slow nod.

“Exactly,” Sam nodded back, even as she reached into the diaper bag for a bottle.

It was encased in ice but Sam merely pressed her promise ring to the bottle and the ice disappeared; the bottle heated.

“Clockwork—another ghost—did something to my ring,” she explained, “the ice was made by Danny. The ring can melt his ice now and then heat up the bottles. I pumped myself empty before I came here.”

The Mansons noted that she didn’t say ‘home’; they supposed they understood, she had been living with the Fentons.

Pamela steeled herself before asking, as Sam fed Damian, “Samantha, are you…active with Daniel?”

“No. We haven’t had sex,” Sam answered bluntly, “because he’s a halfa—he can phase through walls; what if his sperm can go through condoms? And I haven’t been too…routine with my pills since Damian came along. It’s a miracle when I remember my vitamins. I’ve dropped from vegan to just vegetarian because it’s easier. And neither me nor Danny have any interest in Tucker more than a friend.”

“But Damian—was he really just…Sold to Daniel?”

“He was sold to the Ghost King; coulda been anyone on the throne. Coulda been Pariah Dark for all his grandfather cared,” Sam hummed with a slight melody in her voice, “he’s technically Danny’s property. Chattel. A slave. Danny though—”

“He doesn’t want slaves,” Jeremy nodded with a small smile, “so when given a baby he declared him his son.”

“Yes. Then I took him as my son. I swear to anyone, on anything, that I did not give birth to him in any way, shape, or form, naturally, scientifically, or magically.”

Jeremy and Pamela still didn’t quite believe that but they let it go. There was nothing they could do about it now.

Manson lawyers worked fast and Damian was already adopted to their daughter and her boyfriend.

They were grandparents, again, either way and they would support the young parents.

The teens had stepped up for young Damian, not becoming overly reliant on their elders for childcare; the Mansons were content to finance for the baby like they did Danielle so Samantha and Daniel could focus on the children, school, and the Realms, in Daniel’s case.

“Why did you switch from formula?” Jeremy questioned.

“First, it’s better to breastfeed if you can,” Sam answered, now burping Damian like a pro, “better for the baby and the environment. Especially since Dami might have been premature. Second, it’s cheaper and we’re in a good position to make it work.”

“Samantha, we’ll pay—”

“I know, I know—oh, nice bass on that one—” she praised Damian for burping loudly before wiping his face with the burp rag and moving him back down into his sling against her chest for his nap, “I know, Mom, Dad. The money wasn’t the only reason, I promise. We did this—we three made this decision, I made this decision, because it’s best for Dami. I would have nursed Dani too if she were a baby. We want to give him every advantage.”

Sam paused before explaining, “We did do our research, you know. Books and we talked to his pediatrician. We talked to Frostbite too. Everyone, everything, said it would be for the best if I could do it. Talked to my doctor too. It’s as safe as can be for both Dami and me. Once he’s old enough to wean, I’ll slowly taper off the potion.”

Again, the older Mansons nodded in understanding.

“Do the others help with feeding Damian?” Jeremy asked, interested.

“Oh. Yes. I pump a lot, so we have an ice chest—iced over by Danny’s ice, Tucker has a necklace to melt it, like my ring—of bottles in Danny’s room and some in the kitchen fridge. We take turns. If I’m a little full I’ll nurse him but otherwise he gets bottles of pumped milk.”

She grinned, “He’s putting on weight like he should, since I started taking the potion. Doctor Peterson is pleased with his progress. If he was premature like we think, then he’s not so bad off like we were afraid of. Being ecto-contaminated like he is—we don’t know how though—is helping.”

“As long as he’s healthy,” Pamela agreed, “but, Samantha, what about your future—?”

“No more biological kids ‘til after marriage,” Sam explained quickly, “I’m still going to college. Me and Danny aren’t even risking another biological kid until things have settled and we’re out of high school. I do know his Council—the Observants—want him to start fathering kids as soon as possible but we’ve said no,” she sighed, “we don’t even know if he can father kids the normal way, because he is half-dead. Clockwork won’t say anything either way. As it is now, Dani’s his heir.”

“But his council wants back-ups,” Jeremy nodded.

“They also want a natural child of his body,” Sam explained tiredly, “Dani’s a half-clone. It’s already bad enough that they’re both only half-ghost.”

“But wouldn’t his children be only quarter-ghost?”

“Not if they’re conceived in the Realms; the ghost part should breed true. But, again, that’s if he can breed at all.”

“Oh.”

Chapter Text

Jenny's New Sister:

“I have a new sister!” Jenny bounced as she spoke, “also Dad Regenerated so he looks different now but—new sister!”

“Really?” Danielle asked, starting to bounce as well, “Who is she, what is she?”

“Amelia Pond,” Jenny replied, “human, seven years old, likes Amy better. We crashed in her back garden after Dad Regenerated. We accidentally kidnapped her for twelve years so she’s ours now.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tim muttered, before raising his voice so Jenny and Danielle could hear, “do you need extraction plans in case of apocalypse?”

“Dad and Mum are already working on that. Plan is to sell her to Uncle Danny, like Harry and Neville. They’re gonna ask him soon as we get her settled in.”

“She’s probably gonna need a therapist,” Danielle realized, “being kidnapped and all.”

“UNIT has therapists,” Jenny assured, “used to alien stuff. She’s already booked for when she realizes what this all really means for her. Right now it hasn’t really sunk in, we don’t think, what missing twelve years means. She’s just a kid, thinks this all is some big adventure. Her parents are…we don’t know, they don’t exist anymore, but they did once. They’re not dead. They literally don’t exist but she does and Dad’s calling her a paradox walking and her aunt was shite, left a kid alone overnight to go party and I swear it was only supposed to be five minutes—”

“Calm down, Jenny,” Kon spoke calmingly, “we know. You’re not the abduction type of aliens on purpose.”

They migrated into Wayne Manor and Alfred, upon seeing the group, made hot cocoa.

Ensconced in one of the sitting rooms, the group continued the conversation with Tim asking, “What about your parents?”

“They’re freaking out but trying to hide it,” Jenny replied, “I was supposed to be their only kid; Dad warned Mum that they’re not biologically compatible and they won’t adopt because of the dangers of our lives. ‘Cept—”

“Now they had to adopt,” Danielle said, “Amelia Pond—”

“Well, thank goodness we haven’t watched those seasons yet,” Jon said brightly.

“Amy was in the programme?” Jenny asked, surprised.

“Grown up Amelia Pond was supposed to be the next Companion after Donna’s…incident,” Tim explained, “but we know how off rails your life’s gone compared to the show. Won’t say anything more.”

Donna was just fine but had opted to return to Earth as her granddad was getting up there in years and her mother worried something fierce but wouldn’t admit it. She was ready to embark on more home-bound adventures.

To say nothing of the fictional Jenny’s fate, or Rose’s.

Jenny gulped down air, trying to calm down.

“What am I supposed to do with a human sister?” she asked plaintively, worriedly.

Compared to a lot of beings, such as Time Lords, humans were rather fragile and children more than adults.

“You protect her from stronger things trying to hurt her but trust her to make her own decisions as she grows,” Danielle instructed, having grown up with human siblings nearly from the start, “humans are surprisingly resilient, Jenny. Sure, they might get sick or break bones more easily than us but they can come back from a lot. Especially with good medical care. I know your Dad and Mom will take great care of her. I’m sure if she gets sick or hurt, they’ll get her the best care possible.”

“You can start teaching her self-defense,” Tim added, “I’ll help. That way she can protect herself too. We’ll train her Robin-style if your parents are okay with it.”

“I can be her friend,” Jon offered, “she’s only a couple years younger than I am. Me and Dami always want new friends and she can know the Secrets. Amy will be okay.”

Jenny took a little while to calm completely but agreed that she was probably overreacting.

Her Dad had travelled with plenty of humans and her Mum had grown up a human.

Things would be fine.

Chapter Text

The Baby Daddy (or Royal Concerns and Deals):

“It won’t be for a few more years,” Danielle assured, “I’m—I’m not ready to be a mom.”

“Why Jason? Isn’t that a little incest like?” Roy asked for his partner, though not unkindly.

Danielle shook her head, “He’s so liminal, he’s almost a half-ghost. He’s nearly undead but still alive, almost like my Dad. If I use him as a donor, I’m increasing the chances that the baby is at least half-ghost. Especially if I do the procedure in the Realms.”

“I’m not gonna be just a donor,” Jason said roughly, “if I do this, I wanna be a dad. Not just a donor.”

Danielle blinked before nodding in agreement, “We can work something out; if you wanna be involved you can be.”

Jason settled his head in his hands, “I thought the Council would want you married?”

“They just want an heir,” Danielle snorted darkly, “Dad’s proving that he’s having trouble breeding. Mom’s fine, tiptop shape, as fertile as can be—”

“But the dead don’t have kids,” Roy nodded in sympathy, “you’re his only biological kid and you didn’t come naturally.”

“They’re—the Observants—getting desperate for the King’s bloodline to continue,” Danielle shook her head, “they hoped he’d be pumping out heir after heir, being half-alive with a living wife. There is a way for full ghosts to have kids but Dad and Mom can’t do it.”

Danielle suddenly looked older than any of her possible ages, “If Dad’s bloodline dies out, if we can’t hold the throne, then the Realms—” she trailed off tiredly.

“Will fall into chaos?” Roy offered.

“That’s the best outcome,” she agreed, stunning the two men, “Dad’s—Dad’s been the first King in a thousand years, guys and even before that Pariah Dark just cared about Power. Dad’s been piecing things together since he got the stupid throne. It’s been ten years, guys, and there’s still rebellions and uprisings against a half-ghost King. Minor ones but still.”

“You have to have a kid,” Jason realized, “you don’t have a choice.”

“I’m only getting a choice on when because there’s still a chance Dad can get the job done,” Danielle said tiredly, “they still got a few years before Mom hits menopause.”

“What if you can’t have kids, like your Dad?” Roy asked worriedly, “What if Jay can’t father kids?”

“Then we resort to science and magic,” Danielle replied, “Dad and Mom don’t want to do it, could cause an uproar with the Council about more fake or unnatural heirs. But we might get pushed into a corner about if I can’t have kids. If Jason’s infertile, I start looking into other donors. Maybe go to a clinic.”

“Science?”

“We have all the notes on Kon’s and Jon’s creation and theoretically Grandpa Jack and Grandma Maddie know how I was created. We have access to various dimensions’ technologies. We can create more—Grandpa and Grandma call me, Kon, and Jon binary clones. Two DNA sources used. We can create more binary clones. My DNA’s stable enough now.”

“I’ll still donate,” Jason offered before pausing and realizing, “That’s if Roy’s cool with it?”

Roy smiled softly, took his hand, and tenderly, lovingly said, “Jay, you’re a fuckin’ idiot. Of course I’m okay with it. Any kids of yours will be mine too. You never gave me shit about Jade or Lian, why would I give you shit about this?”

Jason grinned sappily before becoming serious and turning back to Danielle, “You have a deal, Your Highness.”

Chapter Text

“Mom, Dad, help,” Dean said, holding a baby out.

A whirlwind of activity followed.

“He is Nephilim,” Castiel declared, having inspected the boy, “though I cannot tell his true parentage. It is being…hidden from me.”

The pediatricians took over as soon as the angel stepped back.

“Nephilim,” Danny said slowly, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “isn’t that half-angel or something?”

“Precisely,” Castiel said just as slowly, measuring his words like they were his last rations, “They are…it is Forbidden for angels to lay with mortals. The creation of Nephilim is even more taboo as the first, the original, were monsters more often than not. It is an intentional act, to create Nephilim; the angelic parent must give a portion of their own Grace to the child during conception.”

“So they purposely knocked someone up then ding-dong ditched the kid,” Dean growled.

“Perhaps they heard that we are romantically involved, Dean,” Castiel offered, “and hoped we would take in the child as our own.”

“Well, of course we are,” Dean huffed, rolling his eyes at his angel who shook his head fondly, “I’ve already picked out a name too. A good human name.”

“Oh?”

“Jack, after Grandpa Jack. Unless, you have a name?”

“Perhaps…James, after James Novak?”

“Hmm…Jack James…James Jack…JJ…no, definitely Jack James. I like it, Cas.”

“Well, little Jack is healthy as far as we can tell,” Doctor Peterson joined the little huddle, “every scan we can perform came up normal, perfectly within range for his age group.”

Both Dean and Castiel visibly relaxed.

“We’ll get you set up,” Sam promised her son and might-as-well-be son-in-law.

A servant brought David’s old wrap and Sam showed Dean and Castiel how to wind it around their bodies to carry little Jack close to their hearts.

“Does the heart even beat?” Danny asked Castiel with interest, referring to his Vessel.

“Yes, I have kept all systems functioning as intended,” Castiel confirmed.

“Good. Because babies this young are used to heartbeats,” Danny explained as Sam worked with Dean, “they just spent nine months with their mom’s in their ears.”

“I see,” Castiel nodded, “well, Dean has assured me that I have a perfectly human sounding heartbeat.”

“What’s the likelihood that his mom was the human?” Danny asked next.

“Oh, quite likely…angels with female vessels most often shutdown the reproductive system. It would also be quite hard to hide the evidence of the gestating Nephilim. His mother likely died in childbirth; her body finally unable to handle his Angelic self.”

Danny winced; that would be a horrid way to die and he fried like a French fry.

Within hours, little Jack was all ready to go home.

Over the next few days, a room in the Bunker became a nursery and supplies loaded in.

Chapter Text

Baby Wizards Mean Trouble:

Danny pulled out his phone, “Sorry, Mister Lancer. It’s the preschool.”

He took the call to the hall before quickly returning, “Sam, Tucker, there was an incident at the preschool. Neville used accidental magic. Everyone’s okay, they’re just letting us know.”

Sam and Tucker nodded.

“Wait, accidental magic?” someone asked, confused.

Danny slid back into his desk, answering, “The two kids we’re babysitting for a while, they’re both wizards. Magic. Real magic. But they’re so little their magic sometimes acts without their permission.”

There were murmurings of understanding.

“Why are you babysitting?” Kwan asked.

“’Cause a dark—evil—wizard wants them dead,” Sam sighed, “so their parents gave them to us for safekeeping. Officially, Danny technically owns them like he does Damian. But we’re going to give them back, physically. So their parents can raise them when it’s safe. We’ll just be Aunt Sam and Uncles Danny and Tucker.”

“So, after the bad wizard’s gone the parents get the kids back? Even though—”

“They were scared and desperate and used the wrong ritual,” Danny defended, “and we decided to help. By owning the boys’, I’m allowed to take them into the Zone and put protections around them. In fact, I brought them back to Amity for extra protection.”

“The bad wizard would have to get through the Zone to Amity,” Dash nodded, “from wherever they’re from. He’d have to know about ghosts and stuff. Then get through all the ghosts you know then find the portal, get through FentonWorks, then find the boys.”

“Exactly.”

Danny tipped his head back, tiredly, “The boys, they’re…they don’t know why they can’t be with their parents. This’s their first time in preschool; Amity’s Amity so magic’s pretty okay here but where they’re from magic’s this Big, Important Secret and they can’t understand that yet so they’re scared and confused and it’s all new for them to be away from their families. They—”

He shook his head, at a loss for words to explain.

“Do you need help?” Valerie questioned.

“Always,” Danny replied, before chuckling, “but we’re good, Val. Most of the things I’d like help with is King stuff. Just…mostly paperwork. So much paperwork. But me, Sam, and Tuck have the boys and Dani in hand. We’ve a nanny and child therapists, you know? We’ve the backup.”

“All you have to do is ask,” Valerie reminded him with a nod.

“Thanks,” Sam nodded back.

Chapter Text

Enter Bart:

“This’s Bart,” Kon introduced the speedster he held off the ground, the other boy’s legs moving constantly in the air, “he’s from a bad future where Uncle Danny’s entire family died and he went crazy evil. A future that won’t happen anyways. Bart, Jenny; she’s a clone of the Doctor from Doctor Who with a little bit of Rose Tyler thrown in. She’s from another universe like Danielle.”

“I didn’t know you!” Bart chirped cheerfully, legs still moving, “this’s so schway! Are you really the Doctor’s Daughter? So cool—er, hot? Old slang confuses me!”

Jenny laughed, “Yeah, I’m the Doctor’s daughter. Lemme guess, you’re related to Wally or Barry, right?”

“Both! Barry Allen’s my grandpa and Wally West adopted me!”

“Dick’s having Bruce pay for two speedster appetites,” Tim interjected just as cheerily as Bart.

“If he needs help he can always ask Dad,” Danielle said lightly, though she was frowning, “and Grandpa Jack and Grandma Maddie can probably formulate high calorie nutrition bars or something.”

“It’s cool,” Tim said, “Bruce can stand to lose some money. Really. He’s happy to do it too.”

“Oh, is that the slang?” Bart asked, legs finally coming to a stop.

Kon let him down but kept a hand on him.

“‘Hot’ implies attractiveness,” Tim lectured, “‘cool’ is multiuse.”

“I see,” Bart nodded like a bobblehead.

“The future must have had different slang,” Danielle wondered.

“It always does,” Jenny told them, “and to really blend in you have to learn it. Mum once got arrested for using the wrong slang. Took awhile for Dad to sort it out. Of course, we were on a different planet too but still.”

“We’ll teach Bart,” Tim assured before grinning, “Clockwork sent a note with Bart anyways; we’re supposed to find someone else and then start a superhero team like the Titans. I’m sure Bart will blend in by then.”

“Did Clockwork say who?” Danielle asked with interest.

“Just that she’ll be a girl our age. That’s all,” Tim replied.

“We’re already thinking up a team name!” Bart said brightly.

“Well,” Danielle said, “you need help, you know how to Summon me.”

“I’m out,” Jenny shook her head, “sorry but Mum and Dad are overprotective, and I have Amy to look after. Could probably be tech support though. Dad says I’m a whiz with machines. But I’m not donning a suit.”

“It’s alright.”

Chapter Text

What Happened to Bart's Family:

“Uncle Damian!” Bart cried out happily, picking up the older boy into a hug.

Damian, well used to loud and affectionate relatives, merely hugged back the stranger, “And you are? Richard’s new son, yes but—”

“Oh, I’m Bart. Sorry!” Bart set him down, grinning even though his eyes were suspiciously shiny, “Sorry, I—I just haven’t seen you since—since the Incident and you’re one of my favorite relatives!”

“Ah, yes, the Incident that led to Father’s rampage,” Damian nodded, “can you not tell us—?”

“Uncle Danny already took care of it,” Bart assured a little shakily, “it was Plasmius. In my timeline he assaulted the Palace while Uncle Danny was lured away. Everyone but Uncle Danny was there for safety reasons. Uncle Danny was the only survivor of the immediate Royal Family; everyone else and I do mean everyone was wiped out. I only survived because I—I ran away. Dad—Wally—stayed with Papa—Dick—and Mom—Kori.”

“Nobody blames you for running, Bart,” Richard stepped in, firm yet gentle, “I’m glad you ran.”

“But—I left everyone to die,” Bart admitted, “I wanted to be a hero but I’m a coward!”

“And this’s something to talk to your therapist about,” Richard said, still gentle, “you’re just a kid; you did the right thing. I know you don’t believe us yet but you did the right thing.”

“I do not blame you, Bart,” Damian spoke up, causing the speedster to whip around in shocked hope, “Father and Mother have instructed my siblings and I to do the same against a Plasmius level foe. It is unfortunate the Father of your timeline miscalculated the risk but I can see why he though the Palace unassailable.”

Damian privately thought that the alternate timeline Plasmius must have been using some artefact or another, some thing of great power in order to destroy the Palace.

The Palace, after all, was the most secure place in several dimensions; the wards on it were supposed to be impregnable, not the least bit because they drew off the King’s Power and Obsession to Protect.

Had Pariah Dark merely stayed in his Palace and organized the invasion, Damian knew from history lessons, then Father would not have been able to defeat him so. Because the short of it was that Pariah Dark was much more Powerful than the halfa and the wards of the Palace would have been truly unbreakable.

He looked steadily at his nephew, repeating, “I do not blame you, Bart. You chose the correct course of action. I too am glad you did so.”

And then Bart was sobbing, holding Damian like a teddy-bear.

Damian shot Richard an understanding look as he hugged Bart again.

He would have Father and Mother talk to Bart.

Chapter Text

Chat and Chiot:

Shaky phone footage showed Chat Noir racing the rooftops with a little boy in a Carnival mask and white hair tied into a braid.

The mask covered the boy’s entire face.

Then Chat Noir tweeted the news: the mystery boy was his newest brother and he had some inhuman abilities.

Chiot, as he called his brother, was given up by his mother for his safety as she lay dying. Chiot was seen as an abomination in his homeland.

He was spending time with his brother in civilian wear when the boy got anxious and needed to just…run.

So Ladybug had found a mask and he had donned Chat Noir and off they went.

His followers cooed and sighed over the news that Chat Noir was a brother yet again, they had gotten used to updates of his Phantom family, and was willing to meet his brother where he needed it.

Paris was used to their heroes and Chat’s siblings running and playing on the rooftops and were just pleased he had brought another along without much thought.

Then Ladyblog News got an interview.

Chiot was nervous, that much was clear but he remained at Chat’s side on the rooftop.

“My apologies, he doesn’t speak French,” Chat explained, “only some English and an older dialect of Japanese. We’ve been relying on magic to translate but I can’t cast that spell yet.”

“That’s okay!” Ayla assured quickly, “You can translate for him, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. So first question, what happened to his biological parents?”

“His father died at his birth and his mother died of a lung disease of some sort, we’re not sure which,” Chat explained succinctly before expanding slightly, “they lived in a time before antibiotics and adequate medical care. The Realms are Infinite after all.”

“Explaining the older Japanese,” Ayla nodded, “can you tell us where he comes from?”

“No, sorry, classified so his true identity—and thus the family’s—doesn’t get out,” Chat explained apologetically.

“But he was an abomination there?”

“Yes…” Chat seemed to mull something over before continuing, “The mask, it hides it but he’s not fully human. His father wasn’t human. Hybrids like him are considered little more than beasts in his homeland, things to be destroyed.”

“Oh my god!” Anya gasped, “But he’s just a little boy!”

“Does not matter to his homeland,” Chat hissed, smoothing a hand over his brother’s hair soothingly before saying something in what sounded like Japanese to the anxious child.

Chiot relaxed ever so slightly.

Anya regained her composure before nodding and kneeling, “Chiot? Are you happy with your new family?”

Chat translated and Chiot nodded shortly before speaking.

“He says,” Chat began, “that we are…strange. We don’t care that he’s hanyou—not human, a half-breed—” he explained the Japanese word for the reporter before continuing, “My new dad is—that’s classified, sorry—but his human wife accepts me? All the family accepts me. But I’m happy. I miss Mother but I think she’d be happy about my new life. That part’s an almost direct quote. All those first-person pronouns are about him.”

“I’m glad you’re happy,” Ayla told Chiot, letting Chat translate before asking, “Are you enjoying Paris?”

Chiot thought after Chat translated before speaking through his brother, “It is…different. The air smells and sometimes chokes me but I like Chat and everyone here. The mask helps with the air. It is also very loud here.”

Chat frowned.

“What does he mean about the air and noise?” Ayla asked worriedly.

“His nose and ears are much better than a full human’s,” Chat explained, still frowning, “more like a dog’s. The pollution in the air must affect him more. I hadn’t known—” he knelt and questioned the boy.

Then he nodded at the child’s answers, “I see. The mask dulls his nose, blocks some of it out. Staying above the streets also helps.”

The frown on Chat’s face turned to a bright smile, an almost desperate smile as he said something to his brother.

“What? What’s wrong?” Ayla asked quietly, noting what had to be a reassuring tone in the foreign words.

“Chiot thought I was angry with him,” Chat explained.

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” Ayla said, letting Chat translate, “nobody’s mad at you. We’re upset for you!”

Chat used his baton to contact Ladybug; the heroine soon appeared, holding a small satchel.

She knelt before Chiot; Ayla politely turned away and muted her phone.

When she turned back, Chiot had his mask back in place but seemed to be breathing easier.

“A nasal strip enchanted to block out the smells and earplugs to dull the noise,” Ladybug explained, smiling at Chiot who had latched onto her with gratefulness, “I won’t deafen him completely, he still can hear us, but he won’t be able to hear several blocks away from us.”

“Yikes, his hearing’s really that strong?” Ayla asked.

“His non-human blood gives him much better senses than a human,” Chat replied, nonchalantly, “I should have realized…”

“No one blames you, Kitty,” Ladybug murmured, still hugging Chiot.

“As Chat Noir I have sensitive senses just like Chiot,” Chat refuted, “I should have known; Paris isn’t—but then I would have gotten used to it all wouldn’t I?”

“How do you guys handle it at home?” Ayla asked, interested.

“He lives in a small town, rural; Mama‘s invested a lot into keeping pollution down, funding the buses and free bikes so a lot of people don’t even own cars anymore. Those that do run clean.” Chat explained easily, “as for the noise, it’s a very quiet little town. Nothing much happens anymore. Not since Papa became the Ghost King and settled things with the ghosts who kept causing havoc. Most didn’t even mean to, really. It’s just, compared to ghosts and the Realms, mortals and the Mortal Plane is very breakable. He also wears hats and things enchanted to muffle noise…we just didn’t think he would need them so high above the city.”

Chat dragged a hand down his face tiredly.

Chapter Text

Maddie and Damian:

Maddie peeked into the room; it had been quiet for a while, too quiet.

She found everyone asleep, even the baby, in various spots around the room.

Damian was in the crib, thankfully, but the positions of his parents…well, Maddie winced.

Tucker seemed best positioned, starfished on Danny’s narrow bed and snoring softly though his beret had fallen to the ground and he was still wearing his glasses.

Danny was sleep-floating, dangerously close to the ceiling fan as he bobbed gently in the artificial airstream, arms limp and hanging down under him. He had no legs, only his ghostly tail.

Danielle was curled up on his torso like a much younger child, also in her ghost form; their tails were twisting together as the two slept.

Sam had collapsed against the crib, head down, chin to chest. One of her hands was in the crib itself, a finger on Damian. Either to reassure him or herself, Maddie didn’t know.

Damian began to rouse; Maddie made a decision.

She tiptoed in, ducking under Danny and Danielle, scooting past the bed and Tucker’s feet and the inflatable mattress, and nearly dancing a little to not wake up Sam as she lifted Damian into her arms from the crib. Then she silently retraced her steps to the door, grabbing Damian’s sling along the way, and quietly closed it behind her as she exited the room.

She held her breath; would the teens sense that their son was gone?

No. Everyone remained asleep. Thankfully.

“Well, Dami, Grandma’s gotcha now,” she murmured to the waking baby as she carried him away from the bedroom and down to the kitchen.

Damian likely wanted a bottle by then; it was nearing the time when he ate anyways and if she could feed him before he started crying then maybe the older kids could stay asleep for a while yet.

Deftly, she heated a bottle from the fridge and began feeding Damian who took his bottle quietly but happily.

She talked to him, oh so quietly, hoping not to wake anyone even as she spoke; in the quiet, low light of the kitchen it was easy to remember when Jazz and Danny had been so young.

Damian even looked a little like Danny.

When Danny had brought Damian home, Maddie’s heart had leapt to her throat thinking the worst.

Danielle had been designed to look like her father—Vlad, that creep, had demanded that much at least—but a baby?

She had assumed another clone situation, a magic conception situation—because Danny would never cheat on Sam. And they would never hide a pregnancy.

The truth was so much worse.

And her darling son, her Danny, had stepped up into fatherhood again. All three teens had become parents again.

She was so proud but so, so scared for them.

They were running themselves ragged, Danny especially, given his duties as King, as evident by the fact that they were so passed out they didn’t wake when she took Damian.

What would their futures look like, already having two children all three parented?

“Missus Fenton?” Sam came downstairs, not quite scared but definitely concerned.

“I have him,” Maddie answered the unasked question.

Sam audibly exhaled in relief, slumping slightly against the railing.

Sam came into the kitchen fully, dropping into a chair, “Did he cry? We’re so—”

“Tired,” Maddie interrupted, “I took him and you didn’t wake up, Sam. You guys obviously need the sleep.”

Sam gave a tired smile, “Yeah, but we’ve never wanted to force our parents to step in.”

“It’s okay to ask for help,” Maddie frowned at the younger woman.

“We don’t want to dump him on you,” Sam explained.

Damian finished his bottle and Maddie settled him to burp, a rag over her shoulder even though she was wearing her hazmat suit as always.

“Sam Manson,” Maddie full named her, not knowing her middle name, and Sam sat up a little straighter in her seat, “He’s our grandson. Of course we’ll babysit him! It’s not the same as ‘dumping him on us’. Not at all the same. Besides, of course you need help sometimes. You’re all still in school; Danny’s literally a King of infinite dimensions. Me and Jack, we were just out of college when we had Jazz and we still needed someone to babysit occasionally so we could sleep and shower!”

Sam flushed in embarrassment, “Okay. We’ll ask for help.”

“Good,” Maddie nodded shortly, “now go back to bed. I have him and you need the sleep.”

Sam nodded back, got up, blew a kiss to Damian, and returned to the bedroom where she collapsed onto the inflatable mattress, already dead asleep.

“Please don’t be as stubborn as your parents,” Maddie told Damian.

Chapter Text

Ecto-storms and Hot Chocolate:

There was a reason why the King’s chambers had such a large bed and it wasn’t anything salacious.

“Sire,” one of the guards stuck his head in, nearly shouting to be heard over the thunder of the nasty ecto-storm outside, “Sire…”

“It’s alright,” Sam said, already moving away from her husband to make room between them, “send them in.”

Damian led Harry and Neville in; all three boys looked spooked and jumped as one when lightning flashed, and thunder boomed.

The boys scrambled for the bed and were quickly lifted into the bed where they burrowed into the pillows and blankets.

“Just noise, just noise my boys,” Sam crooned, “the palace won’t fall.”

Damian clung to her with the next bout of thunder, Neville and Harry clung to Danny.

The guard stuck his head back in, “Sire—”

“Send them in,” Sam repeated and Adrien and Danielle both appeared, Danielle held Sammy and Adrien held Dean’s hand.

The four children clambered into the large bed and their parents made room; Adrien had never been able to go to his biological parents’ bed when scared as a little boy and Danielle was still technically in the single digits of age.

Dean and Sammy were still getting used to the Fentons but took the offered comfort.

Only Dawn was missing, safely in her original dimension.

When the children couldn’t settle, even Adrien seemed a little frightened, Danny sighed, sat up, and reached for the phone on his nightstand. He pressed a speed-dial.

“Hello, Aida?” he set the phone between his shoulder and neck, “yes, I’d like eight cups of cocoa delivered to the chambers. Make one of them in a child’s cup. Yes…no. Thank you.”

He hung up and called out, “Ignatius!”

“Yes?” said the guard.

“Servants will be bringing up some drinks.”

“Understood, Your Majesty,” Ignatius returned to his post.

Within a half-hour, everyone was once again snuggled in the bed, this time each sipping a cup of hot cocoa (or in Sammy’s case, nursing from Sam) and listening to an audio play as they waited out the storm.

“What causes storms in the Realms, Papa?” Adrien asked, interested and confused.

Danny chuckled lowly, “I asked Clockwork the same question my first storm. So ecto is just energy and sometimes it just…mimics stuff on the Mortal Plane. Like thunderstorms, because that’s what ecto does best. Mimics. Even if you got hit by the lightning nothing would happen to you. Well, maybe you’d become a teensy more Liminal but no aches or pains or injuries. Nothing would be wrong with you.”

The older children gave sighs of relief but still showed signs of fright as the booming continued.

“Ecto just sorta builds up and then mimics something,” Danny continued, turning down the radio while he talked, “natural things are easier to mimic than manmade things. It’s not even raining. Listen…”

Everyone went quiet; it was true, there was no pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof of the palace or against the balcony windows.

“Why doesn’t it rain, Father?” Damian asked, cocking his head.

“Because the ectoplasm that makes up the rain just sorta floats away,” Danny explained, smiling, “it gets absorbed by the rest of the Zone’s ‘plasm.”

Several of the kids tensed with the next boom of thunder but they didn’t seem so afraid anymore.

“Ecto is why we get something like sunlight too,” Danny continued, remembering the lesson he got from Clockwork on the subject, “it’s why things can grow here. Why you can get sunburned if you don’t use sunscreen.”

“I thought you were just being overprotective with the humans,” Danielle said, scrunching up her nose.

“Nope. Our ectoplasm protects us,” Danny explained, reaching over to ruffle her hair, “but humans—even Liminal humans need protection from the ecto-rays. We’re just lucky regular sunscreen works as good as it does. Mom and Dad are working on a better formula.”

It was quiet for several moments, then Adrien perked up, “I think the storm’s over.”

Danny stood from his seat and walked to the balcony to open the doors and poke his head out, “Looks like.”

He came back in, “Now can we go to bed?”

Everyone was finished with their drinks, Sam left to the nursery to change Sammy, and a servant came to collect them.

Once they were gone, and the Sams came back and Sammy was settled into the cradle his parents kept in their chambers, they all snuggled into the bed and each, falling asleep one by one.

Danny looked to Sam over the children with unspeakable fondness.

Yes, there was a reason why he had demanded such a large bed.

Chapter Text

Baby Bat:

“Please help,” Dick had a tight smile as he bounced the wailing toddler, “we’re all out of ideas, not even Jase can calm him and babies love him.”

Damian’s eyes went wide and he nodded, opening a portal, “Father, Mother! Uncle Bruce has been deaged.”

“Oh no. Okay, stay calm,” Danny spoke, already shouldering Anakin’s diaper bag, “where’s Alfred and how old is he?”

“On vacation and we think a year and a half,” Dick responded desperately, “I’m so sorry, Your Majesties, but you’re the only ones with baby experience.”

The three, for Sam was carrying Anakin, stepped through the portal and it rippled closed.

“Have you fed, changed, and/or had him nap?” Sam asked, trading her calm toddler for the cranky one; Bruce only cried harder, “is he verbal?”

“Yes, yes, and we’ve been trying to,” Dick nodded, much more comfortable with the snuggly, happy child he now held, “he’s been crying for his mom, dad, and Alfred.”

“Okay, we can handle this,” she assured, “where does he nap?”

Dick led the way to a bedroom that had clearly been bugged; the bed was very large and there were pillows lining the edges like walls.

Danny was digging something from the bag he carried, sighed, opened another portal, and grabbed a boombox from what was clearly the Palace nursery.

He set the boombox on a side table and pulled a CD, an actual disc, in a sleeve from his bag.

Then he gave Dick some earplugs.

Dick wisely used them; it dulled Bruce’s screaming at least.

Sam was on the bed with Bruce, propped up against the headboard and remaining pillows, holding the child to her chest and murmuring to him. He was crying quietly by then.

Danny placed the CD into the boombox, shifted to his ghost form, and pressed play.

The strains of a lullaby began; a woman’s voice began singing and Bruce’s eyes began drooping with the words.

Danny, Dick, and Anakin left the room.

Danny took Anakin as soon as the door closed and led Dick away from the room. Dick removed the plugs and asked, “How?”

“Our Royal Bard, Ember,” Danny explained, “she can hypnotize with her voice. She made that CD when we first got Damian. After a particularly bad night. Each lullaby’s a Suggestion to go to sleep. We only use it when one of the kids won’t or can’t sleep and it only works if they’re already tired. Even tired, adults can fight it off when they know what to expect.”

“The earplugs,” Dick realized.

“Filter out the Suggestion,” Danny nodded, “you seem exhausted and weren’t prepared to fight the Suggestion. I bet most of you Bats could fight it easily but not Bruce…not right now. Poor little guy’s exhausted and scared and doesn’t understand why his mom, dad, or Alfred aren’t coming for him. Sam’s got a nice heartbeat—well, compared to me, and she’ll keep him from falling off the bed. She’s used to fighting the Suggestions too. So he’ll be safe. Dami, there you are.”

Damian had been with Jason, each wearing earmuffs.

Danny sighed and tapped them on the shoulders.

“Father,” Damian greeted, taking off his earmuffs as Jason did as well, “is Uncle Bruce asleep?”

“Yeah, we used the Sleepy-Time CD,” Danny replied.

“Sleepy-Time…CD?” Jason repeated incredulously.

“Apparently, there’s a ghost that can use hypnosis,” Dick explained, “the CD has songs to put someone to sleep.”

“B won’t like magic being used on him,” Jason pointed out.

“Bruce can brood all he wants when he’s full grown again,” Dick shot back, “he was gonna make himself sick and not even you were able to calm him down, Jason.”

“Calm yourself, Richard,” Damian ordered sharply.

Dick dragged a hand down his face, inhaled, then exhaled slowly, “Right. Right, you’re right, Dami. Sorry, s’just…we’re so not prepared for a baby Baby Bat.”

“Do you know how long—?” Danny asked, settling Anakin on the floor and pulling out a small container of blocks for him to play with as they spoke.

“72 to 94 hours,” Dick answered, “and it happened six hours ago. We had Zatanna check the spell. She can’t undo it safely.”

“Dami, watch Anakin for a few minutes will you?” Danny opened a portal back to the Palace and left; the portal closed behind him.

“What’s he doing?” Jason asked, perplexed.

“Possibly fetching supplies,” Damian replied, sinking to the floor to play with his littlest brother, “Mother and Father keep a stockpile of infant and toddler necessities.”

“’Cause they don’t know when they’ll get their next kid,” Dick nodded.

“Precisely, Richard.”

A bigger portal opened at the other end of the room and out streamed a line of ghosts carrying toddler gear, including a potty chair.

Danny was last out and was directing his subjects on where to put everything, before turning to Dick and Jason, “Okay, so you should be okay ‘til he reverts—we’re not leaving!” he assured to the clear panic, “Sam and I’ll just sorta…move in ‘til Bruce’s back to normal. Clockwork and Danielle have the throne. But now you have everything needed for a toddler Bruce’s age. I know you said Alfred’s gone, do we need a cook or chef?”

“I’m allowed to use the kitchen,” Jason said with a knowing smirk to Dick who flipped him off, “I can handle making food.”

“You have a blender, right?” Danny pressed, “and fresh fruit and vegetables? I’m not sure where Bruce is on eating solid solids right now.”

“Oh yeah, we can blend him up some organic baby food,” Jason nodded, before pausing, “does he need formula?”

“When Damian was around the same age he was taking a bottle a day, on top of solids,” Danny shrugged, “we were still weaning him. I brought some formula just in case and a few new bottles. Anakin’s already weaned so I didn’t have any in the bag. I also had some diapers, wipes, and pull-ups brought. Don’t know where Bruce’s on potty-training.”

“What about clothes?”

“I had Clara—our nanny—pack some of Anakin’s clothes. He and Bruce seem about the same size right now. I think Bruce can handle hand-me-downs for a few days.”

Danny grinned reassuringly, “It’s gonna be okay. Just relax.”

Jason cracked his neck, “I’ll get started on lunch. Yo, Tim. Any news?”

Tim had just shuffled in, and shook his head, yawning, “No sightings of the bastard.”

Danny peered at him closely, “When did you last sleep?”

“I’ll sleep when I’m—” Tim began, then trailed off as he remembered who he was talking to, “Uh, sorry. I’m fine.”

“Dick, take him to Bruce and Sam,” Danny sighed, “Ember might relax him enough…”

“C’mere, Baby Bird,” Dick led Tim back to the room and got him into bed with Sam and Bruce.

“This’s ridiculous,” Tim whispered fiercely, not wanting to wake Bruce even as he was herded into the bed. But the lullabies were working their magic; his eyes were drooping and he was yawning.

“Sorry,” Dick wasn’t sorry at all, “King’s orders.”

“Settle down, Tim,” Sam told him quietly, adjusting her hold on Bruce as she made room between them.

Tim grumbled, yawning, but laid still and was soon asleep.

Dick left the room again, tiptoeing out and closing the door near silently.

He returned to the sitting room and joined Damian and Anakin on the floor; Danny had joined Jason in the kitchen.

A couple hours later, lunch was done and Sam carried Bruce from the bedroom to settle him into the highchair at the table. A second highchair was brought for Anakin.

Bruce was still unhappy but no longer wailing, willing to eat his lunch, fruit sliced very small.

If Sam was visible to him that was.

So set the routine for the next few days; Bruce clung to Sam so she took over his care.

He tolerated everyone else.

It turned out that Bruce was already potty-trained, much to the relief of his children who did not want to change his diapers just yet, and able to eat solids without wanting or needing formula.

“Not my first rodeo,” Sam said when Green Lantern showed up to check in and mentioned that she seemed at ease with two toddlers, “we once had three toddlers all at once plus a tween, while still in high school. Two were magical.”

“Yikes. Guess mini-Spooky’s a walk in the park,” Hal replied, “what about Anakin? Any Force stuff yet?”

“Yeah, he definitely has the Force,” Sam nodded as she held Bruce on her hip, “we’re going to talk to Mister J’onn, Miss Zatanna, and Miss Raven for help.”

“Mama, Mama!” Anakin came toddling up.

Sam knelt with a smile, “Yes, baby?”

Anakin made motions to be picked up; without hesitation, Sam picked up her son, placing him on her other hip, and stood.

“Where’s Daddy, huh?” she asked Anakin.

Anakin giggled, “Daddy flying!”

“Father’s doing a flyover of Gotham proper,” Damian joined them, “invisibly.”

“Ah.”

“Well,” Hal said, “I better get going. Keep us updated?”

“Of course.”

Later that night, during dinner, Bruce finally reverted to adulthood.

“Yes!” the Bats and Birds cheered happily while Bruce, naked and almost confused, sat in the wreckage of his former highchair.

Bruce shook his head to clear it, accepted the dish towel to cover himself, and stood up.

He hurried to dress and was then debriefed, with pictures because he was a cute toddler when he wasn’t crying.

He turned to the Fentons, “Your Majesties, thank you.

“No problem,” Sam shrugged.

Chapter Text

Wizards are Still Human:

“Oh, dear,” Lily backed away from the portal, “we’ll take them to St. Mungo’s. That’s the magical hospital. They have an entire ward for sickness.”

Danny and Sam carried Harry and Neville through as Lily called everyone home via Floo.

Then they headed to the hospital, also via Floo, and checked in before being sent to the second floor.

A nurse met them and led them to an exam room, “Healer Jacobs will be right with you. I’m Nurse Leanne. What’re we doing today?”

“We think the boys have the muggle disease ‘Chickenpox’,” Lily spoke, settling Harry onto the exam table and gently removing his shirt to reveal the tale tell marks on his torso.

Frank did the same with Neville.

“Oh, poor things,” Leanne clucked sympathetically, taking notes, “spend a lot of time in muggle areas, do we?”

“We’ve sent them to America, to my cousin Danny Fenton, he’s a squib,” Lily explained, pointing to Danny, “his family lives in a muggle town. They’ve been going to a muggle primary school too. They’re visiting for the week.”

“I see, and you wanted to make sure it is chickenpox,” the nurse nodded in understanding.

“My parents died of Dragonpox,” James interjected sadly, “they were old but…”

“I understand. Are there any other children in the home, Mister Fenton?”

“Yes, but they’ve been vaccinated,” Danny sighed, running a hand through his hair, “we think the boys encountered an anti-vaccine person’s kid at school. Some muggles don’t believe in vaccinations,” he explained to Leanne’s horrified look, “they get exemptions for whatever reason so their kids don’t have to be vaccinated to go to school.”

“But the boys were vaccinated?” Leanne asked.

“Yeah, right after we took them in,” he nodded, laughing tiredly, “took them to a muggle doctor for all their muggle shots so they could go to preschool; guess it didn’t take?”

A knock came from the closed door and Healer Jacobs came in, “Hello, what do we have here?”

“Suspected cases of chickenpox, Healer,” Leanne replied, handing over her notes, “both boys were vaccinated but it didn’t take.”

“Oh my,” Jacobs looked over his glasses as he read the notes then he began waving his wand and reading the results.

“Yep, chickenpox,” Jacobs nodded, stowing his wand and beginning to write out prescriptions, “well, we have potions for the itchiness and the fever. Take these scripts to the apothecary upstairs and the Apothecarist will dispense the potions and give you dosing instructions. Do not over-dose or underdose the children.”

Everyone nodded as Lily and Frank redressed the boys and picked them up for cuddles; Lily had demanded her friends get vaccinated every time there was a new muggle vaccine. And Sam had them vaccinated as well.

Perhaps the virus was different between universes though; the adults’ magic would protect them from simple muggle diseases, the little ones not so much.

Harry made grabby hands towards Danny, likely looking for a cooler body temperature, and Danny scooped him up with ease. His own ectoplasm would also protect him from diseases of all sorts.

Harry hid his face in Danny’s shoulder; he was burning up and Danny’s core temperature was always a tad lower than humans’.

Leanne the nurse came back in and led the group up to the apothecary. The Apothecarist lectured them briefly about each potion prescribed. There were three; one to help the welts heal, one to handle the itchiness, and one to reduce fever. The first was for purely cosmetic purposes but they took it anyways.

Then they all walked back down to the Floos and Flooed back to Godric’s Hollow.

The boys were dosed and sent by to the Realms for expert care; their parents stayed back, to keep the cover story of the boys being somewhere in America intact.

Danny called his parents to explain what was going on as Sam got the boys down for a nap before calling her own parents. Then they put out the warning to Dawn and Adrien before warning their living staff.

If the viruses were different—if any adults—adult men specifically got this…

The Palace went into lockdown mode; only the ghostly staff and most essential living staff were allowed to work, the rest Danny paid for room and board for at the hotels in Amity. Even Tucker was kept Earth-side.

Each time the boys were changed or bathed or fed, anything they had touched was decontaminated like the staff was dealing with toxic waste.

It took a week for the event to be declared officially over and the boys on the mend.

Neither Sam nor Danny nor any of the living staff had caught the virus.

As soon as she was able, Sam coordinated a lawsuit against the preschool for allowing ‘religious exemptions’ for vaccination requirements. Her parents’ lawyers were salivating.

The boys were healthy and had magic to aid the fight against the virus but what if someone who couldn’t get the vaccine had caught it? There was a student with cancer for Ancients’ sake! What if he had caught it?

The preschool quickly bowed under pressure and removed ‘religious exemptions’ as an option.

Selma had a fit at the next playgroup meet-up.

Chapter Text

Happy Father's Day, Bruce!

A portal opened but only Damian stepped out.

“Happy Father’s Day, Uncle Bruce,” he greeted before holding out a thumb-drive, “Father, Mother, and Uncle Tucker have arranged a present in hopes of repaying their unintentional slight against you.”

Tim took the drive as Bruce asked, confused, “What slight?”

“Removing me from this dimension, unknowing of my paternity, and denying you a chance to raise me—”

“B!” called Tim from the nearest sitting room, “come look!”

Everyone, including Alfred, moved to him.

“It’s all…baby pictures,” Tim had hooked a laptop up to a projector, the thumb-drive already in place, “and video files…how?”

“The Fenton household is awash in security measures,” Damian explained as everyone piled in, staring at the screen which showed a photograph of Sam nursing Damian. Her breast was hidden by the angle and baby, “including cameras and recording devices. As I grew older, began completing my so-called ‘milestones’ my family members, nanny, and bodyguards started carrying cameras to record such occasions. I do believe this photograph is the first time I drank directly from my mother’s breast.”

Every Wayne looked close to tears as Tim went through the makeshift slideshow; there were pictures of everything, and notes attached to each file.

And Damian added commentary of what he knew and remembered.

There were pictures all the way up to his current age; pictures of him at school, other faces carefully blurred out, playing sports, painting, fencing, even in the Boy Scouts.

“I am a member of the Amity Chapter of the organization,” Damian said proudly, even as a picture came up showing his badges, “I am also an honorary member of the Infinite Scouts; I am not a ghost thus I cannot be a full member. However, since I am a Scout in the Mortal Realm and the ward of the King and Queen besides, I was voted in. Part of Chapter 2000. The Chapters of the IS are based on centuries of death and the organization is gender neutral.”

There were pictures of him in the Realms; pictures of him in formal wear, attending his parents at Court, pictures of him attending balls and celebrations. Pictures of him in an ornate library, bent over his studies with a ghost nearby. Videos of him training with Fright Knight, with his parents.

Pictures of him laughing, grinning, rosy-cheeked and happy. Pictures with various family members, each just oozing love and affection as he was lifted and hugged and had his hair ruffled. First birthday, first day of school (where he clearly wasn’t happy), even video of his first steps, grainy and primitive as it was. Even his first—

“That was the first time Father took me flying,” Damian said at the selfie of him, Danielle, and the king in mid-air, against a glittering black background; he couldn’t have been older than three, grinning, missing teeth.

“Mother had an entire platoon of soldiers ready to catch me should anything have gone wrong,” Damian continued, “she trusts Father and Danielle, of course—”

“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst?” Jason offered as they went to another slide.

“Precisely. Oh, this was when we went camping!” Damian smiled at the picture, “I became lost in the woods but I was found by—”

“Is that a Bigfoot?!” Stephanie sounded a tad strangled as they all gazed upon the very clear picture of an ape-like humanoid.

“Oh yes. Missus Bigfoot found me wandering and weeping,” Damian explained, “so she gathered me up with her own child and brought me to the nearest campfire. Which happened to be ours. We don’t often show outsiders this photograph, as Grandfather Clockwork swore us to secrecy. I have his permission to show you but after Timothy closes the file it will self-destruct.”

“Jesus, Dami!” Dick laughed as they left that picture, “How old were you?!”

“Oh, five, almost six,” Damian shrugged carelessly, “Father and Mother almost deployed the army to search for me. They were preparing to do so when I returned. Missus Bigfoot was very careful with me, I assure you. We believe she thought me an infant as she kept me close to her breast while her own child walked. She was very warm. I remember that much.”

The next picture was more normal; Damian, only a little younger than he was currently, hefted up on the king’s shoulder as his grandfathers held up a trophy between them.

“Ah, that was just this last summer,” Damian nodded, “I placed first in a fencing tournament. The trophy was surprisingly heavy. I was not using my preferred blade, but I managed well enough—Uncle Bruce?”

Bruce was crying; heart both heavy and light.

He gathered Damian up and said, “I am very proud of you, Damian, and so happy you’ve lived the life you have. Your parents didn’t wrong me by taking you! They saved you and for that I am forever grateful. But, thank you. I’ll treasure this thumb-drive for the rest of my life and then afterlife.”

Everyone agreed fervently, even as the slideshow continued; Damian remained on his uncle’s knee for the rest of it.

Chapter Text

Modern Midwives and Pups:

Doctor Isabelle Rain was highly recommended; Doctor Liken himself had spoken highly of her.

A witch OBGYN who specialized in cross-species pregnancies, she melded magick, traditional methods, and more modern advancements in the field as her patients wanted or needed.

And she agreed to take on Kagome’s case; InuYasha’s records from Doctor Liken had been forwarded to her and Kagome had brought her own medical records, carefully transcribed into English by a ghost in the King’s employ.

So there they were, sitting in the waiting room; Kagome, InuYasha, and Sango, who came along for her knowledge on youkai from their original dimension.

Kagome suddenly slapped her neck, “Myoga!”

“What’re ya doin’ here, flea?” InuYasha demanded as the tiny youkai popped back into shape in Kagome’s palm.

“Lady Kaede thought my expertise on inuyoukai may be required for this strange healer you are using,” Myoga groaned, holding his head before lifting it up and saying, “Congratulations are in order my Lord, my Lady. A child!”

“Second confirmation,” Kagome murmured to InuYasha who nodded; his nose was rarely wrong, and the flea had no doubt sipped from pregnant women before.

“Higurashi Kagome,” a woman’s voice called out and the group stood up to follow a nurse to an exam room; if she was surprised at their number, the nurse didn’t say.

The exam room was like any other and the nurse left the group alone after getting Kagome’s vitals recorded.

Kagome took a seat on the edge of the table, swinging her legs idly as the other two found the rigid plastic seats all medical spaces seemed to use.

There was a knock at the door and a woman came in, “Hi, I’m Doctor Rain. Please call me Isabelle.”

She was dressed in pastel scrubs and had her blonde hair up in a messy bun; brown eyes scanned the file she held before looking up to them with a smile, “Miss Higurashi, may I use your first name?”

“Yes,” Kagome nodded, stilling her legs, and folding her hands in her lap.

Isabelle drew up a wheeled stool and sat, “So, you think you’re pregnant? Despite not having missed a period yet?”

“Yes,” Kagome nodded again before explaining, “InuYasha’s—my husband—nose is much better than humans’ and he says he’s smelled the same scent on confirmed pregnant women before. And, just now, the—vassal to his biological father just drank some of my blood—he’s a flea youkai—and said I’m pregnant too.”

“Hmm…Well, it’s too early for the normal blood test then,” Isabelle said, putting aside the file, “may I do a confirmation spell?”

Kagome’s eyes went wide and she asked, “It won’t hurt the baby, right? If I am—”

“Not at all,” Isabelle assured everyone, “it’s perfectly safe.”

“Okay.”

Isabelle chanted a quiet spell and then Kagome burped; yellow bubbles came from her mouth.

“Congratulations,” Isabelle said with a grin, before picking up the file again, “Now it says here you’re a witch of sorts as well. A shrine—well, I don’t think you can be called a maiden anymore. What’s your magic like?”

“My power is mostly focused on purifying evil…or youkai in general—”

“Yet your husband is—”

“Half youkai, a hanyou,” Kagome shrugged helplessly, smiling shyly, “my adopted son is kitsune, fox youkai, and my adopted daughter’s a wolf hanyou,” she frowned slightly, “one of my mentors thinks I won’t purify the baby but there’s never been a pregnant miko—that’s a shrine maiden—who kept her power like I have. Which’s why we wanted it confirmed again.”

Isabelle nodded, making a note in the file, “Now, it says here that the father is half dog spirit? I must admit, I’ve never worked with dog spirits, purebred or otherwise. Can you tell me—”

“I do believe that’s my cue,” Myoga hopped from Kagome’s head, bowing, “I am Myoga, vassal to Lord InuYasha just as I was to his father and his father’s father. I know much about the inuyoukai—the dog spirits as you called them.”

Myoga began to lecture about the reproductive ways of the inuyoukai and Isabelle took copious notes, asking questions. Occasionally, after introducing herself, Sango would interject with something she knew.

It was a good thing that Isabelle hadn’t scheduled any other appointments for the day.

“And when InuYasha’s mother was pregnant with him?” Isabelle asked when Myoga wound down, sending him off on another one.

They took a break after a while, Isabelle ordering a meat heavy lunch for everyone on Myoga’s advice.

Kagome would need more protein than normal.

After lunch, Isabelle proceeded to examine Kagome, who had changed into a paper gown, taking more notes before saying, “Well, everything looks fine but it’s so early…I want to see you in a few weeks unless you start cramping, bleeding, anything that feels off, I don’t care what. Come in immediately.”

Kagome nodded, getting redressed.

“And you,” Isabelle turned to InuYasha, “follow your nose; you can probably track her hormone levels closer than we can. I want you to find a healthy pregnant woman and take a deep sniff. Then keep that in mind while tracking Kagome’s hormone levels.”

“Got it,” he nodded sharply.

“In fact, come with me,” Isabelle led him out and to another exam room where another doctor and patient were conversing, “Hey, Doctor Rahm? Can my patient’s husband get a quick whiff of your patient? His nose’s a diagnostic tool. I want him to monitor his wife’s pregnancy.”

Doctor Rahm and his patient, Missus Smythe, agreed.

A thorough scent investigation later, Isabelle led InuYasha back to the others then led the group out to the receptionist to make the next appointment.

Chapter Text

Chat and L'elu:

“Oh,” said Chat, looking down at the baby strapped to his chest, a literal baby wearing a domino mask, “oh, no. He’s my brother. Not my son. L’elu.”

The so named L’elu gurgled happily.

“Your brother?”

“My youngest brother, yes,” Chat nodded, “the straps are enchanted, by My Lady, to keep him safe. We’re babysitting. However, My Lady is tending to her day-job and L’elu was getting fussy. She suggested we get some fresh air.”

“She’s still working?” Alya asked.

“She’s pregnant, not terminal,” Chat sighed; it was his Lady’s main argument against his smothering care.

“Old argument?” Alya coughed a laugh.

“Yes.”

“Where’re your parents? What’re they doing?”

“They’re attending to my sister, La Clé,” Chat explained easily, “something is happening in her town, in America. Something that requires the attention of Papa and her evacuation with her niece into the Palace. Mama asked me to babysit L’elu so she can help coordinate the response if need be.”

“Oh, that makes sense. I hope La Clé’s okay!”

“I’m sure it’s going to be fine,” Chat assured, “her other family is a small army itself and Papa is the Ghost King. He could call upon the Ghost army if needed.”

“Army?!”

“Soldiers and warriors of every era, creed, and civilization, all volunteer for the army,” Chat lectured, “Papa is not like the former king in that he does not conscript nor mind-control his soldiers like mere weapons. He will allow any ghost to join up and they can retire…however, if needed, he could empty out the Ghost Zone and Command every ghost to fight for him. If that happens then the apocalypse is upon us.”

L'elu made a noise and Chat smoothed down his downy blonde hair, cooing in English how L’elu was being so good and that Mama and Papa would be back soon.

L’elu giggled and then…

“Oh my god!”

L’elu had conjured lights that danced around his hands.

“Kill it, Alya!” Chat hissed, looking around nervously, “kill it and edit it out!”

Alya had already turned off her phone though, thanking every god she knew of that she no longer did livestreams of interviews, “Adrien…what even—”

“He’s…He was born Anakin Skywalker, Alya,” Adrien said lowly, using his bigger hands to smother the tiny lights.

“Anakin…you can’t mean—”

“Darth Vader, yeah,” Adrien slumped, before glaring at his friend, “He’s not going to be Vader; he’s just a baby and he won’t go evil, not if we have anything to say about. I’ll kill Palpatine myself before he gets his wrinkly hands on my brother!”

“Okay, Adrien, okay,” Alya soothed, “I get it, he’s just a baby right now. That’s just a future that could be. Not will be.”

Adrien nodded curtly, glad she understood.

Alya paused, “Is it the Force or magic?”

“Grandfather Clockwork says it’s the Force,” Adrien said quickly, finally letting Anakin’s hands go.

The lights did not reappear.

Both adults gave a sigh of relief.

Chapter Text

The Date:

“Are you sure—” Clark asked for the umpteenth time as he fidgeted with his tie.

“We’ll be fine, Dad,” Kon repeated him as he walked into the room, carrying his duffle bag, “It’s just one night and we’ll be at Uncle Bruce’s.”

“Chris’s powers are coming in,” Clark reminded, “and I trust Bruce, like a brother, but he’s still just a human.”

“One of the best trained humans on the planet,” Kon pointed out, crossing his arms, “along with all his kids except Damian. But even Damian’s trained. Dani’s gonna be there too. We can handle any powers.”

Clark nodded, taking a deep breath, “Okay. And you’re sure you guys are okay with me dating?”

“Dad, it’s Aunt Lois,” Kon blinked in confusion, “we know how you feel about her. And she knows everything about us so we don’t have to hide and lie about stuff.”

Clark let out another exhale in relief; now he just had to survive the date without making a fool of himself in front of Lois. Or being called away.

Wally was covering Metropolis and Smallville so nothing short of an invasion of some sort would interrupt.

A portal to Wayne Manor opened.

Alfred leaned out slightly as Jon joined them and Clark picked up Chris, “Messers Kent. Welcome to Wayne Manor once again. Masters Timothy and Damian and Her Royal Highness Danielle are awaiting your arrivals.”

Bruce leaned out as well, scooping up Chris and the diaper bag before absconding with both with barely a greeting to Clark.

Clark gave a wry smile; Bruce loved kids, including superpowered ones.

Clark handed a list to Alfred even as his boys trooped through the portal, explaining, “These’re all the powers I have; those with checkmarks are the ones the boys have shown. Red for Connor, blue for Jon, yellow for Chris. Chris’s showing powers near daily.”

“I understand sir,” Alfred took the list and tucked it into his coat pocket, “I will see to it that Master Bruce makes an updated copy before the morning.”

“If they get to be too rowdy or…much, just call me and I’ll get them,” Clark continued firmly. “I—”

“Mister Kent,” Alfred was amused, Clark could tell by the twinkle in his eye, “I assure you; the Waynes can handle four powered children. Master Bruce has contingencies for almost every scenario tonight. You, on the other hand, are keeping a lovely lady waiting. Now go to her and woo her like the gentleman you are.”

Clark smiled bashfully, flushing from the mild scolding, and left as Alfred leaned back to let the portal close.

Alfred nodded at empty air and went to find his oldest charge; Master Bruce was already in a sunroom, bathing in the dying, dimmed light of the Gotham sunset, playing with young Christopher.

“Master Bruce,” he coughed a quiet interruption.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, Alfred?”

Alfred took the list from his pocket and explained.

Master Bruce took the list almost gravely; it was almost too easy to forget the power his nephews would one day hold. The list was a stark reminder.

Master Bruce scanned the list, stone-faced before nodding, “We have plans in place for most of these. The ones we don’t are easy enough to counteract. Are our fire extinguishers up to date?”

“Yes, Master Bruce; shall I bring you one?”

“Please. And please make sure the children have access to one.”

“Of course, sir.”

Bruce smiled at Chris as Alfred left; the baby had yet to show any sort of heat vision, but it was best to be prepared.

Jason nonchalantly entered a few minutes later, carrying the requested extinguisher.

It was a poorly kept secret that the Wayne family delinquent adored kids; at galas he was often surrounded by the children of the elite.

“Kiddos are all settled in the entertainment room,” his second oldest reported easily, setting down the extinguisher and scooping up Chris while pulling funny faces.

Chris squealed in laughter.

Bruce could only look at the two boys in fond awe; two literal miracles.

His Jason, returned to them, playing with his nephew, a survivor of a planetary implosion without aid of a capsule like Clark or Kara.

“You’re staring, ol’ man,” Jason broke him from his pondering of just how much luck had to be involved. Or perhaps fate…or a meddling ghost come to think of it.

“Nothing. It’s nothing, Jaylad.”

“Sure it isn’t,” Jason drawled, Chris under an arm like a ball, before shaking his head, “So Uncle Clark finally found his balls, then?”

“So it seems,” Bruce agreed, standing from the floor gracefully.

“Lane’s gonna eat him alive,” Jason joked, “and maybe in the fun way too.”

“Jaylad,” Bruce scolded fondly, shaking his head in exasperation.

“C’mon, ol’ man, let’s go check in on the kiddies,” Jason said, shifting Chris to his hip and then saying to the baby, “An’ you, young man, no flying off.”

Bruce laughed.

Chapter Text

The Date: The Actual Date

Lois met Clark outside her apartment building; she was dressed for dinner but also for running.

“Sneakers, Miss Lane?” Clark teased, having caught a glimpse of her feet.

“Never know what will happen, especially with you around, Smallville,” was her volley back as they pulled into traffic.

“Shouldn’t be any reason for running,” he told her, “I’ve a got…a friend covering my…other jobs.”

“Can they handle it? No offense to them but you’re…you.”

“I have complete faith in them,” Clark confirmed with a nod, “and the kids are with Bruce and his family. Danielle and Damian are having a sleepover with Tim and my boys.”

“Isn’t Tim a little old for mixed sleepovers?” there was no accusation in Lois’ voice, merely curiosity.

“Off the record, Miss Lane? Tim wasn’t…his biological parents were neglectful at best. So he’s catching up on being a kid along with the others.”

“Okay,” Lois nodded in understanding, “I get it.”

“Besides,” Clark chuckled, “they’ll probably have Dick as a chaperone. He loves the kids and loves hanging out with Damian.”

“Well, Damian was supposed to be his baby brother,” Lois mused with a soft smile.

They pulled into a parking lot; Lois gasped, “Clark! I know you can’t afford this!”

“Special stipend from Bruce and Danny—he’s the Ghost King who found my boys,” Clark found the valet, “they both give me an…allowance because of my other jobs. It’s enough that I could quit the Planet and still raise the boys comfortably. And it’s in addition to the boys’ stipends. Don’t expect this every date—hello.”

“May I take your car, sir?”

“Yes, please.”

Clark and Lois exited the car, Clark handed over the keys, and off they went into the restaurant.

They were seated without fuss; though the host had looked at them closely, perhaps sensing that they weren’t the usual type of clientele.

“So, who’s covering your shift tonight?” Lois asked quietly, over menus and wine.

“One of the Flashes,” Clark murmured, “he’s the only one free tonight. He’s probably doing run throughs as we speak.”

Lois nodded before raising her voice ever so slightly as a waiter came to them.

They ordered.

They spoke of safe topics over dinner, civilian topics, saving any truer talk for one of their homes.

They eat and they talk, laughing occasionally.

Clark paid the bill without letting Lois see it and the valet brought the car around almost as soon as they stepped into the cool air.

Clark brought her back to her apartment building and she invited him up.

“How are the boys?” she asked over another glass of wine as soon as they were settled on the couch.

“Chris’s running me off my feet,” Clark admitted almost tiredly, “I don’t know if it’s because he’s natural born where the others were test-tubed, if he’s full blood where they’re hybrids, or just his age and the sun. I was older when I…arrived here,” he waved a hand to encompass the Earth, “a toddler, Ma and Pa think. No more than human five.”

“Flying?”

“Yes. I didn’t start flying until my early twenties, Lois. Neither Jon nor Kon can fly yet. They do the jumping thing I used to do.”

“Jumping thing?”

“I could—can, still can leap over a six-story building without flying. The boys can’t do six yet, they’re young, but Kon can do four and Jon three. Chris can just fly.”

He set down his glass of wine and covered his face, “Ma and Pa are helping as best they can and Bruce already has preschools picked out that can handle meta-kids and NDAs written up and Danny sometimes takes him so he can play with Anakin—Danny’s and Sam’s youngest—Louis, their grandson, and Hope—one of their other godchildren but…Lois, you have to understand what you’re getting into if we get serious.”

Lois was quiet for a moment, maybe two, thinking it over properly because he—they—everyone involved deserved her being serious.

“I know,” she finally spoke, “Clark. I know. Maybe not all of it, or even most of it, but I…understand. I can’t promise I won’t be…afraid sometimes but I trust you. You’re a good man, Clark, and I…like you. A lot. Don’t know if it’s love yet but I do care for you…and you’re very attractive too, so bonus.”

Clark blushed almost as red as his cape.

She inhaled, meeting his eyes, “There’s something I should tell you, though, before we go any further. I…can’t have kids, Clark. Injury. They had to take my uterus out; I was bleeding out.”

“Lois, do you think I’m just…using you to…breed more Kryptonians?!” Clark demanded, aghast, but she laughed.

“No, oh, god, no, Clark, you’d never do that,” she assured, “I know that! It’s just…if you have some idea of more kids in your future…kids made, you know, the normal way—”

“Lois,” he took her hand but he was smiling, “the boys are enough for me. But if we do get serious, enough to have more kids there’re ways we could use.” I’m not going to think you’re broken, Lois. I’m just sorry I wasn’t there to—”

“It is not your fault, Clark!” she said fiercely, “It was before we ever even met! I was on assignment, and I got unlucky. It happens. I’m alive and healthy and it’s not your fault at all.”

He ducked his head, “Yes, Miss Lane.”

She glared at him before nodding curtly, sure he got her point.

Talk turned to less heavy topics and eventually Clark headed out.

With a kiss to his cheek.

He had a lovesick look all the way home.

Chapter Text

The Aftermath:

It was surely the apocalypse.

It had to be.

For there was Adrien Fenton (formerly Agreste) and Marinette Dupain-Cheng…cuddling.

Canoodling.

Talking normally as they seemingly tried to casually meld into one person.

There! He had his arm around her waist! And she wasn’t self-combusting from his attention!

There! She was talking—without a stutter or blush!—and he was nodding along and responding as if this was all normal behavior.

There! She giggled, a real, unembarrassed giggle and he beamed, kissing her cheek and flirting as easily as breathing.

“What in the world?” Ayla muttered, eyes narrowed.

“Did…did we wake up in a different universe?” Nino asked.

“Has he said anything to you?” Ayla demanded of her boyfriend as they watched Adrien nuzzle Marinette.

“No! She say anything?”

“If she did I wouldn’t be so freaked out, would I?” Ayla hissed.

“Dudes,” Nino called out to the—couple?

“What the hell?” Ayla demanded as they came closer.

The two of them shared soft, loving smiles before Marinette exclaimed happily, “Adrien and I are dating!”

Pin drop. Record scratch.

Chloe fainted dead away, onto Sabrina who valiantly struggled to lower her slowly.

Then came the cheers as money exchanged hands and an impromptu party erupted in the halls.

“Wha—” Marinette’s jaw dropped at the antics of her schoolmates.

Ayla bounced forward to hug them both then noticed something on Marinette’s hand, “Holy—is that an engagement ring?!”

Again, everyone froze with bated breath.

Marinette flushed bring red but smiled, “No, it’s a promise ring.”

“I went to my Papa’s jeweler to have it made,” Adrien gently took his lady’s hand and lifted it up, “turns out Papa already had ordered the setting—silver’s very important to my new family—I just had to pick out the gems. I decided to match her earrings so ruby and onyx.”

Girls converged on Marinette, even the now revived Chloe, to ooh and ahh over the ring.

Adrien wisely stepped aside.

“So, your—ah—parents are okay with you dating Mari,” Nino questioned quietly.

“Yes. They just met her—they came in for a visit this weekend after the last akuma—and they adore her. But,” he flushed, “apparently, how I talked about her…well…”

Nino laughed; he had sat through enough lovesick lectures on the subject to understand the Fentons’ knowing.

Chloe was studying the ring intensely; she pouted, “Adrikins. If you had wanted a ring for her then we could have gone to—”

“Sorry, Chloe. Papa’s under contract with Mr. Smith,” Adrien called, “very bad penalties if he goes anywhere else for any jewelry.”

“Well,” Chloe considered, “it’s no Cartier but I guess it’s good enough. Dupain-Cheng, if you break his heart I. Will. Ruin. You. Got it?”

Marinette smiled softly, “I understand, Chloe. Thank you for the warning.”

“Sabrina! Schedule a spa day for the three of us!” Chloe barked to her assistant-friend.

“Wha—”

“Keep up DC,” Chloe flipped her hair, “you’re dating my Adrikins. We must…bond. Urgh. I’ll have someone pick you up from the bakery.”

“I guess,” Marinette agreed hesitantly. Adrien beamed. Chloe was doing so good at being nicer!

“Sabrina!”

“Yes, Chloe. Right away.”

The blonde huffed again, rolling her eyes, “and DC? If you show up in anything less than your best, I will personally take you shopping,” she made it sound like a threat, “Adrikins may not be an Agreste anymore but from what I hear his new family is wealthy too. There are standards. I understand you may not be as…well off as us…furthermore, I demand a new MDC original and I will be paying what you deserve for your…urgh, talent. Sabrina!”

Sabrina nodded and texted Chloe’s measurements to the confused designer.

“Do not try to give me a discount, DC,” Chloe growled, “I know what high fashion is worth. I will pay triple what it’s worth if you push me. Sabrina, write that down.”

With that, the blonde stalked off, Sabrina following.

“Good job, Chloe!” Adrien praised her retreating back.

Marinette blinked, still dazed after Chloe’s little tirade.

“Adrien,” Ayla gained his attention and leaned up to his ear, “If you hurt her, I’ll neuter you. Noir or not. Chloe’s not the only one with connections.

“Yes, Ayla,” he replied obediently.

Chapter Text

Batfamily Expansion:

“Dami!” Richard greeted his little brother as he exited the portal.

“Richard,” Damian accepted the offered hug before greeting Richard’s spouses, “Wallace, Koriand’r.”

Koriand’r lifted him into a hug easily, “Damian, how are you?”

“Very well,” Damian replied, as she set him back on his feet.

“C’mon, the others are waiting,” Richard led the quartet to the largest sitting room the manor had.

Everyone was waiting; the Bats, the Titans, the JLA, and the Sirens, all draped or sitting on furniture, chatting and playing small games.

Everyone looked up, greeting Damian.

Harley and Selina made room for him on a settee which he took with a nod of thanks.

Then Koriand’r hiccupped; purple bubbles fell from her lips.

Wallace blurred away, returning with a bucket, a bottle of water, a travel sized container of mouthwash, and a stack of crackers.

Then Koriand’r was vomiting. It was also purple. And smelled floral.

Everyone was on their feet, Bruce barking out orders for hazmat suits and lockdowns.

Wallace whistled sharply, as Richard helped Koriand’r, “She’s not sick!”

A pause as everyone mulled this over before cheers erupted and everyone surrounded the trio.

Damian muscled his way through the mass and demanded, “Do you have a physician? Have you been examined? Mother’s—”

Koriand’r knelt, “Yes, Damian. There is a midwife on Tamaran; we have been using portal-balls to journey there for medical care. As I become further along in gestation, my midwife will travel here instead.”

“We’ll be asking your parents if we can use their medical wing for that,” Richard also knelt, “and the birth.”

“Very well,” Damian nodded, reaching into a pocket for his own portal-ball.

He activated it and disappeared through the resulting portal; he returned with his parents.

“Hear some congratulations are in order,” his father spoke with a grin, “of course you can use Medical.”

“You can also see my OBGYN, Doctor Garter,” said his mother, “as well as Frostbite. Your midwife’s welcome to all our medical knowledge. You can also use the Healing Pools if something goes wrong during the birth.”

“Your Majesties,” Koriand’r breathed out, “thank you.”

“No thanks needed,” the queen said easily.

Chapter Text

Anakin and Aurebesh:

“And this is now your bedroom,” Obi-wan, showing Anakin the room, “when you stay with me and attend creche lessons. We will, of course, decorate it as you wish.”

It was a simple little room; a simple bed, desk, dresser set up. It was also plainly painted.

Still, Anakin grinned and set his luggage on his bed. It wasn’t much, his luggage, as Jedi were supposed to have very few personal possessions they were attached to.

It was mostly a few changes of civilian clothes, underwear, socks, a couple pairs of sneakers, and his regular books as his tutors had assigned him summer reading.

Obi-wan led him back out to the hallway in front of their apartment and pointed out Qui-Gon Jinn’s door, “If you ever need help and I’m unable or not here—”

“Go to Grandfather Qui-Gon,” Anakin completed.

“Precisely. Come along, Anakin. We must meet the Quartermaster to get your Jedi things.”

“Wizard,” Anakin trotted alongside the older man.

At the Quartermaster’s level, Anakin was fitted for the Jedi tunics, trousers, and robes for his species, age, and gender.

Taking after his parents, Anakin decided on black, white, and purple as his colors and Obi-wan authorized them. They weren’t uncommon colors for a Jedi, though not exactly common, but more uncommon for Padawans. The clothes were also slightly bigger than Anakin’s true size so that he had some room to grow.

Anakin also was fitted for boots and sandals.

It was a happy not-Padawan that followed Obi-wan back to their own quarters, each carrying a pile of clothes, and put away most sets of clothes before shucking his civilian clothes and dressing appropriately for the Temple.

Obi-wan smiled warmly at seeing his not-Padawan properly dressed, “Very well done, Student Mine. Are you ready to be assigned your books?”

“Yes, Mister Obi-wan.”

Obi-wan led the way down to the archives and library, introducing Jedi, Padawans, and Initiates as they met them.

Down they went until they entered the library, and met with, “Master Nu.”

“Master Kenobi,” the woman greeted before eyeing Anakin, “and your new student, yes? Hello, Student Skywalker. You may call me Madame Nu. Come along.”

They followed her to a desk that held a pile of brightly colored datapads; or rather, datapads in brightly colored protective casings with handles.

“These are your assigned textbooks,” Nu explained simply, giving the child a severe look, “I trust you will take care of them accordingly.”

“Yes, Madame,” Anakin nodded.

“Now, these ‘pads are for younglings much younger than you,” Nu continued, “but the books contained on them will teach you the basics of our written language, mathematics, and history. Do you understand, Student Skywalker?”

“Yes, Madame Nu.”

“When you can fluently read Aurebesh, that’s the written form of Basic,” Obi-wan interjected, “you’ll be assigned more age-appropriate books and be allowed to borrow recreational materials.”

“I understand.”

“Then let’s get this all back to our quarters…and perhaps stop by the Quartermaster’s for a rucksack,” Obi-wan mused as he began piling the datapads into his arms.

Madame Nu coughed, eyebrow raised, as she pointed out an empty messenger style bag.

“Thank you, Madame Nu,” Anakin said, taking the bag and helping his teacher with the datapads.

“You’re welcome, Student. I trust you two can see yourself out.”

“Yes, Master Nu.”

“Very well; may the Force be with you.”

“And with you,” Obi-wan finished the saying and the woman nodded, walking off into the archives.

Obi-wan and Anakin returned to their quarters.

They spent the rest of the day on similar errands.

The next tenday he joined classes in the creche; it was a baby class, working on letters and numbers and speech, but he had known that going in. He was a quick learner, of course, but he still couldn’t read Aurebesh for all he could speak Basic.

As soon as he could read Aurebesh fluently, he would be tested and put into more appropriate classes for his age.

But for now, he sang the silly little songs along with the babies, happy to be learning along with his Clan mates in the class. Apparently, the Jedi separated their kids into Clans not unlike the Houses at Hogwarts.

He was Bear Clan.

He and Mister Obi-wan worked tirelessly after classes on reading and writing, Mister Obi-wan ever patient with his fumbling, blocky attempts at the letters.

By the end of his three month stay, however, he was moved up a class and was reading chaptered books.

The Order had requested special printings, on flimsi—what they called paper, of several different books. Officially they were part of the Archives, unofficially they were mostly for Anakin’s use at home.

Anakin packed his books and changed into civilian wear, activating the portal-ball as he grabbed his luggage.

The entire family greeted him as he stepped home.

Chapter Text

InuYasha's Thoughts:

He tried not to hover; plenty of women went about their daily lives while expecting.

It was hard though; they both knew that it could go bad fast. Youkai and hanyou pregnancies were apparently generally healthy and hardy but nobody had ever heard of a hanyou either siring or carrying children. And somehow, even with her virginity taken, she still had her miko’s powers.

He hadn’t even been sure he could father pups; hybrids were often sterile after all. He had warned her before he had proposed, in case she had wanted children beyond Shippo. He had been prepared for her to break their relationship off, because she was a very caring person and he honestly couldn’t see her without at least one biological child.

But she had admitted that she had known it may be a future issue and she’d rather have him than a whole litter of children. That they could adopt, perhaps other hanyou even, if he proved infertile. That Shippo was, for now, enough. Shippo was theirs in every way that mattered, and she was happy with their family, their pack, as it was.

So, he had put it from his mind; even after they took custody of Imari. Still he had hoped that he could give her at least one pup eventually.

Still, the scent of pregnancy on her had taken him by surprise; at first, he had honestly thought it was coming from Sango as she and Miroku were newly married. But the scent hadn’t faded when Sango and Miroku had left for her home village to repair her weapons and armour. If it was coming from Sango, the scent, so new and weak at that point, would have faded within days if not hours.

He had run to his Uncle Spike who sent him to Doctor Liken. Doctor Liken had gotten a sample and tested it.

He wasn’t exactly the most potent man around, but he also wasn’t sterile like he had feared. Doctor Liken had recommended Doctor Rain at that point.

So, he had returned to his mate and informed her; they both tried not to get their hopes up.

But now, there Kagome was, the pup already starting to show on her slight frame. Their pup. Shippo and Imari’s little brother or sister.

He had, to some extent, feared that Kagome would be shunned for bearing a hanyou’s child; he still remembered how his Mother was treated and why he was Wished Away. He had extraction plans, plans to take her to Amity, where a hanyou might gain some odd looks but no comments or violence, or even the Realms.

But once again the villagers had shocked him. Once again, the villagers, especially the women, had taken one look at Kagome and welcomed her. She had lessons now, on how to make a home in this era, how to cook meals with only a fire and a pot, how to weave and sew and help look after crops and preserve the results for the winters, from the other women. Things any woman her age would already know in the Feudal Ages.

The village men had gathered up and at first he had feared a mob running their pack out, even as the women took charge of Kagome; but they had instead offered their skills and work in building a hut for his family. He had gratefully turned them down, explaining the magical tent they used.

Mollified, the men had dispersed.

Of course, the pack had adapted as well; they were the first to know of the suspicion he and Kagome had. Mainly for Sango’s knowledge but also because Shippo asked about the scent.

Kagome had sworn off using her spiritual powers, afraid of purifying the pup right from her body, but they were still surprised when Miroku had also sworn off his spiritual power. Indeed, the former monk had locked his religious items away as if they were dangerous weapons of their own, going so far as to put his sutras in an old jewelry box and locking that up as well.

Miroku was calm and serene as he did this, as if it was a perfectly reasonable thing to do without being asked.

The tent was, however, mostly safe for youkai-blooded people because of Imari. Imari was now a toddler in everything but age and thus a mischievous little adventurer running everyone ragged as she wandered the village freely. Shippo took his duty as a big brother seriously, often trailing after her while the adults were busy or, in the case of the humans, caught up to them.

Even Kirara was accepted in the village; parents contented to leave their children under her watch or willing to use her as a draft animal when she offered herself for such jobs. Though now she was keeping close to Kagome, unobtrusively in her little form.

After the pack, and once past the three-month mark, they had told their parents about the pup.

He had worried about the Higurashi family’s reaction. Her family had welcomed him, Shippo, and Imari, and had celebrated their Mating then Marriage. But another hanyou pup, conceived accidentally? They were a Shrine family, her grandfather still tried to put sutras on him!

Kagome’s mother had cried…tears of joy and congratulated them sincerely, already babbling about taking Kagome shopping; her grandfather had muttered and huffed but also congratulated them.

His family, on the other hand was much more effusive in their joy; a feast was called in their honor.

But still…so much could still go wrong.

Chapter Text

Mating and Marriage (or, Three Weddings and, Possibly, a Funeral):

InuYasha looked particularly hunted as he shuffled to the house, being dragged by Kagome; Kagome who was not letting him skip this.

Her hair hid most of the bandage from sight, thankfully, so if anyone had seen them they would have just seen a woman dragging a strange man.

Missus Higurashi met them at the door, greeting them softly.

Everyone quickly settled down with some tea; InuYasha wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

“What’s going on?” Missus Higurashi asked gently, seeing InuYasha flinch at her voice.

Kagome smiled but also seemed wary, “So, InuYasha proposed—”

“Oh, he did it, finally?” Missus Higurashi grinned, “congratulations! Oh, Kagome—”

“Wait, you knew?”

“Well, yes, he asked my permission!”

Kagome stared at InuYasha who blushed and mumbled, “Miss Kagami woulda skinned me alive if I hadn’t.”

She nodded in understanding; apparently, his Japanese culture teacher was quite traditional in some matters.

Kagome cleared her throat, shaking her head as if to clear it, then slapped her hand over the gauze covered mark as she could have sworn she felt it tear.

“Kagome!” her mother shouted, hurrying around the table to look, “What happened? Oh, Dad! Get the first aid kit!”

InuYasha shoved his way between the two women and gently peeled away the gauze and tape, causing Missus Higurashi to gasp and Grandfather Higurashi to swear as he arrived with the kit; the mark was still angry, inflamed around the punctures but it didn’t look like it had torn open or become infected.

“InuYasha?” Kagome murmured.

“Looks fine, but I’m gonna clean it again before bandaging it.”

She nodded slightly and he turned to her grandfather, grabbing the kit and setting it, open, on the table.

“What happened?” Missus Higurashi demanded as he sanitized his hands and prepped the needed items.

“It’s a Mating Bite, Mama,” Kagome explained softly as InuYasha cleaned the mark, “it’s how some youkai marry.”

Her mother gasped, “He bit you?!”

“I…didn’t mean to,” InuYasha admitted as he worked, “but, apparently, my youkai half knew what to do to really marry Kagome. I didn’t know, I swear. I went running to my Uncles who explained what happened. Showed me diagrams of various Claiming Bites, including Aunt Buffy’s. She’s mated to my Uncle Spike.”

“There’s no divorce,” Kagome told her mother and grandfather, staring them down.

“And if you had known…?” Missus Higurashi questioned softly.

“I still would have let him bite me,” Kagome assured.

Missus Higurashi smiled, reaching out to take her daughter’s hand, “Then I’m happy for you, for both of you. But,” she became stern, “you’ll still marry in the human way!”

“Oh, we will,” InuYasha promised, taping a piece of gauze over the mark, before snorting, “probably three times.”

“Three?” Missus Higurashi asked.

“Well, here and in the village…” Kagome counted off on her fingers before looking at InuYasha, “and I’m guessing in the Realms, right? Something like a Royal Wedding?”

“Yeah; technically, I’m just a Ward of the King, all my siblings but Dani and Davy are, but we’re all treated as princes and princesses. Besides,” he grinned, a fang poking over, “my family’s huge, if they all come. No way the Shrine or the village can hold us all.”

Kagome laughed, nodding at the truth of his words.

“Oh my!” her grandfather exclaimed, “I must prepare! Daughter—”

Missus Higurashi nodded quickly, “We’ll ready for a wedding but don’t overdo it, Dad. You’re not as young as you used it be!”

InuYasha’s jaw dropped, “That’s it? You’re not…mad?”

“Oh, sweetheart, no. Disappointed you married the youkai way before the human way? Yes. We’ll have to cover the mark with something so people won’t ask questions but if it’s your culture and she’s okay with it then it really is alright.”

Missus Higurashi stepped away, “Dinner! I have to cook something special for dinner! To celebrate! Oh!”

She hurriedly readied to leave then left for the shops while her father began muttering about what would be needed for a Proper Wedding and bemoaned the fact that his granddaughter wasn’t married properly at all.

He also laid a sutra on InuYasha distractedly before wandering off while wringing his hands.

“Maybe your family will be calmer?” Kagome said hopefully.

InuYasha gave her a flat, disbelieving look.

Dinner at the shrine was delicious as everyone celebrated their Mating, though Missus Higurashi did test them by offering Kagome a glass of wine.

Kagome sighed and took a large gulp of the wine, gagging, but looking at her mother with a raised eyebrow the entire time.

Missus Higurashi nodded, satisfied, and didn’t make her drink any more of it.

She did, however, let them share a bed that night, knowing that they shared a bed in the Feudal Era, usually with Shippo, and they were technically married.

Before bed, InuYasha visited the Realms to request that the entire family be gathered for an announcement.

It took a week, a week during which InuYasha helped around the shrine and fetched Shippo, and Kagome was subjected to more wine occasionally, before everyone was gathered in the Realms.

They left the shrine to step into the palace and met with Danny and Sam who led them to the ballroom turned lounge.

Every set of eyes landed on them.

InuYasha explained about Mating Bites and everyone held their breath as Kagome moved her hair.

The mark, now healed, stood out starkly against her skin.

A riot of cheers and congratulations broke out, everyone crowding around them to shake hands and give hugs.

Someone ran to give the kitchen staff warning and by the time night fell a feast was ready and waiting.

Spike and Giles cornered Kagome to profusely apologize that they hadn’t thought to tell InuYasha about Claiming Bites. Giles called Buffy who called Hope to take photos of the bite. Buffy was more technologically savvy than Giles and her own husband but less than her daughter.

The feast and celebrations lasted well into the night.

The next morning, wedding planning began in earnest.

Chapter Text

Enter, Taishi!

She woke up to find him staring down at her.

With red eyes. There were purple marks on his cheeks. His fangs were enlarged.

Crap.

She remained still, “InuYasha, where’s Tessaiga?”

He wrinkled his nose but laid the sword beside her before growling out, “Soon.”

She tried sitting up and he moved quickly, stuffing more pillows behind her.

“Thank you,” she said when he resumed staring at her, “what’s soon?”

He reached out with an elongated claw, his pointer finger, and carefully tapped her distended belly, “Pup. Soon.”

She was about to argue; she wasn’t in labor. But then she remembered reading about dogs knowing when their owners were sick or in some way off.

And her back hurt.

She bit her lip, “How soon?”

“Soon.” Was all he said.

Well, that was helpful.

But if she was about to go into labor… “We need to move then,” she told him, “go home, to the Realms. Do you remember…”

He looked frustrated but finally nodded, “Garter, Rain, Leo, Kaede. Dam and sire’s den.”

“Yes!” she moved to stand up, he was at her side in an instant, lifting her up gently.

“Sango!” she called, directing InuYasha to their already packed luggage, “Sango!”

The slayer arrived at a run, “Kagome? What’s—oh!”

Sango took a defensive stance but not an aggressive one, “Is everything okay?”

InuYasha growled softly but Kagome shushed him, “She’s pack, InuYasha…Sango, can you have Miroku get Kaede and round up Shippo and Imari?”

“It’s time?”

“InuYasha says soon…dunno how soon but his senses—”

“He can probably tell. Alright.”

She left at a fast walk, even as Kagome reached for the portal-ball kept on the side table and tossed it to the floor.

The portal opened and InuYasha carried her through; his parents were waiting, though surprised.

“It’s time?” Danny stood up, moving to summon Medical.

“Not yet, but he says ‘soon’ so I thought it was a good idea to get here,” Kagome explained.

“Oh, honey,” Sam sighed, coming to cup her son’s cheek, “everyone will be fine.”

He grunted at her, “Soon. Pup.”

“That’s right, InuYasha,” Kagome winced at the pain in her back, as Yetis and Doctor Garter arrived with a gurney, “remember the plan. Do you remember our plan?”

He nodded, laying her down sweetly.

He kissed her forehead, grabbed another portal-ball and went to fetch Isabelle Rain.

She was thankfully not busy when he arrived, though he startled her, “InuYasha!”

Hand over her heart, she peered closely at him and then nodded in understanding, “It’s time?”

“Soon.” He repeated, indicating that she should follow him through the portal.

She nodded again, grabbed the bags she kept in her office for the occasion, and walked through the portal.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted Danny, giving her personal bags to a servant.

“Hello, Isabelle. They’re getting set up in the Medical Wing. We’re still waiting on Leo and Kaede, but Kagome hasn’t started labor just yet,” Danny reported before another servant appeared to lead the doctor off.

InuYasha followed them and planted himself outside the delivery room.

Over the next few hours, the entire family gathered slowly; the timeline was still rather foggy, but nobody wanted to miss anything. Leo Wyatt arrived with Paige and the Halliwells, scrubbing in just in case, while Kaede arrived with Kagome’s mother. Both scrubbed in as well.

Sam was taking InuYasha’s spot in the delivery room; partly due to traditions that Kaede demanded be observed, if possible, partly because everyone worried the various scents of birth may overwhelm him.

Nanny Clara rounded up Imari, Davy, Patrick, and the Skywalker twins and took them to the palace nursery so they wouldn’t get in the way or upset.

Everyone else waiting prepared to restrain the hanyou if need be as they waited; but InuYasha seemed serene.

Not two hours after everyone was accounted for, Kagome’s waters broke.

Those with enhanced senses smelled and heard it happen.

InuYasha looked to Anakin, who was meditating beside him, and asked roughly, “Pups?”

“They’re with Clara,” Anakin replied casually, “she has them in hand.”

The hanyou nodded and settled in to wait. Tessaiga was by his side, Miroku had brought it, but not touching him.

It was clear the youkai half of InuYasha was there to stay for the birth.

After a while, the door opened, and Kagome shuffled out with an IV pole holding a bag of saline connected to the IV port in the back of her hand.

“I need to move,” she explained to everyone; immediately, Sango and Koriand’r were at her sides as escorts and InuYasha stood up to shadow every step.

The group walked up and down the corridor, pausing every so often for a contraction; occasionally, Kaede or Isabelle would check Kagome’s progress.

Surprisingly, InuYasha remained calm for all of this.

“While allowing his youkai blood to come to the fore was instinctual,” Myoga lectured Danny and everyone else, “to better protect his pack during such a vulnerable time, he must still be aware and know that everything is in hand. It is also rare for male inuyoukai to enter the whelping den during their mates’ labor; other females will assist. He is likely following instinct older than the inuyoukai themselves merged with whatever he recalls of rational thought.”

Danny sighed but nodded, “So as long as he feels she’s safe he’ll stay passive.”

“Lady Kagome specifically, yes, but should anyone of his pack be threatened he will react with extreme violence until the threat is no more,” the flea warned before adding, “he likely sees the extended family as a pack of its’ own, so the threat level of everyone present is something Lord InuYasha considers very low.”

“He knows, deep down, we won’t hurt his immediate pack,” Danny agreed.

“Correct.”

“Excuse me,” Missus Higurashi interrupted politely, “but who are you?”

“I am Myoga, Lord InuYasha’s vassal,” the flea hopped to her and struck up a conversation.

So, time passed; occasionally another woman would relieve Sango or Koriand’r, a rotation quickly being agreed upon without discussion. The men kept their distance, knowing that they would just get in the way or set off the youkai in their midst.

“I normally would ask people to stay home until contractions were closer together,” Isabelle explained, when someone had mentioned it seemed to be taking a long time, “but with all the variables, I’d rather monitor things from the very beginning.”

Soon, night fell; there had been some progress but nowhere near the pushing stage.

Those who weren’t humans, along with the vigilantes who worked ‘nightshift’, stayed where they were while others drifted off to bed.

Kagome herself tried to rest, being kept company by Cass and Stephanie of the Bats, while InuYasha retook his guard position outside her room.

Shippo, rubbing his eyes, wandered over to the hanyou and climbed into his lap to sleep; it was not an unusual thing for him to do. What was unusual was that the hanyou turned full youkai allowed it with barely a twitch. Indeed, he covered the kit with the large sleeve of his haori, having not yet changed into modern clothes.

Danny had servants bring platters of sandwiches and pitchers of cold water for those who were staying up. And blood for Spike, of course.

Periodically, the midwives checked on their patients and all was calm.

Sunrise peeked over the horizon before things really started happening but still it was a wait. Kagome walked the corridor some more, having to pause more often than the day before; when she wasn’t walking, the women were distracting her with card games. (Padme tried teaching her Sabbacc while Koriand’r managed to teach several people a game from Tamaran; though they substituted actual dice for the knucklebones of Tamaranean animals.)

InuYasha remained full youkai and calm, following his wife’s every movement but allowing the women to continue helping.

It was dark again before Kagome was allowed to push; she had decided not to lay on her back, instead a birthing stool had been pulled from storage for her use and she was willing to fully squat or get on all fours.

Kara was enlisted to help support the miko’s weight as she delivered while Kagome’s mother and Sam provided emotional support.

It was a surprisingly short process; Kagome only needed to push three or four times before the baby was born.

The baby was whisked off by Isabelle, keening heartily along the way, for a once over while Kaede handled the afterbirth.

Leo then healed whatever damage had been incurred by simply laying a hand on Kagome’s heaving shoulder.

Once she was medically cleared, Kara moved Kagome to the nearby hospital bed, helped her into the strange fishnet like undergarments that held a heavy-duty pad, then settled her into the bed.

Outside, those with enhanced hearing had perked up, causing everyone else to do so as well; Shippo woke up, grumbling and rubbing his eyes, but quickly sat up.

InuYasha handed the kit off to Anakin, standing up as the door opened and Kaede let him in the room. Sam, Missus Higurashi, Kara, Leo, and the midwives exited.

A terrible thought struck Damian, “Myoga, what happens now?”

“Now, Lord InuYasha will be introduced to his offspring,” Myoga spoke seriously, “and he will decide if they live or die.”

Anakin tossed Shippo to Paige, drawing his saber and preparing to rush in to stop his instinct-driven brother from doing something horrid.

“What do you mean?” Batman rumbled.

“Inuyoukai will destroy any offspring, male or female, with obvious and extreme deformities or weakness,” the flea explained soberly, “the female will do it herself, especially in the case of a litter. However, Lady Kagome is human. Lord InuYasha will see to it himself,” he paused, “I do not believe, in his right mind, that Lord InuYasha would kill his own children unless they were suffering beyond suffering.”

The door opened again; InuYasha stood there, golden eyed once again, and said, “C’mon, Shippo. You’ve gotta meet your brother.”

Everyone exhaled a sigh of relief; Anakin stood down quickly.

Shippo entered the room.

Slowly, people were roused from their beds and gathered outside the delivery room once again.

InuYasha opened the door again, “Barbara?”

The redhead nodded, hefted up her phone, and wheeled into the room.

As she was inside, Tim set up their equipment; a screen that Connor hung from the ceiling, a projector, and a laptop with a cable.

While they did that, a servant went to fetch Imari from the nursery; she was handed off to Miroku.

Miroku, Sango, Imari, and Kirara waited until InuYasha opened the door again, ushering them in.

“Now the immediate pack is introduced,” Myoga explained softly, “including any children of the pack. While Lord InuYasha may be the leader, there is still a chance that the child could be rejected by the pack at large.”

It took twenty or thirty minutes before Barbara reappeared; she was smiling as she handed her phone to Tim who plugged it into his laptop.

A photograph was projected onto the screen.

Kagome in bed, holding what was clearly an inu-hanyou child, silver hair, golden eyes, and all, with the rest of the pack arranged around her. She was clearly exhausted but grinning.

Shippo and Imari were also on the bed, cuddled to their mother and new sibling.

InuYasha exited the room again and announced, “He’s a little boy and his name’s Taishi; Kagome’s fine, pup’s fine so far. Both are tired so we’ll do meet and greets starting tomorrow; grandparents first.”

A cheer went up as he returned into the room.

The next night, after Kagome and Taishi were released from medical, a feast was held for the entire family to welcome Taishi.

Chapter Text

“Uncle Danny,” Dawn’s voice was remarkably steady as she spoke into the comm.

“Dawnie? What’s happening?” but something in it set his core alight with worry.

“Something opened up the Hellmouth—It’s…it’s bad this time. Like, I don’t think we can handle it bad. There’s these vamps—but they’re aren’t like Spike or Angel or the Master, they just keep coming from the Hellmouth—”

“Say no more. Five minutes, okay. Five minutes and I’ll have the army there. Stay on the line, I’m handing you to your aunt, okay?”

Not five minutes later, portals opened over Sunnydale.

The Ghost King’s army flowed out; infantry, cavalry, an Air Force even.

The Ghost King himself led them, the Princess not far behind.

“Buffy!” he Wailed, clearing his path to the Slayer who looked at him like she was seeing something Holy.

“Danny!” she greeted with relief as he and Danielle touched down.

“What’s the situation?”

“We don’t know!” Buffy grunted as she beheaded another of the strange, primitive vampires, “It was all quiet then—the Apocalypse again! All our magic folk’s trying to close up the damned Hellmouth while we have to just keep fighting out here.”

“Where’s this Hellmouth, luv,” a British voice said as another portal opened and out came a scruffy man in a trenchcoat followed by a woman in a tux, fishnets, and a top hat.

Behind them came, “The Justice League?!”

“Miss Summers?” Superman said, using his heat-vision on the vamps surrounding them.

“Right, okay. The Hellmouth is under the high school. Access point is the library,” Buffy answered quickly.

The British man swore and he and the woman took off towards the high school.

“Who—?”

“League mages,” Batman grunted, using a sword that had been Blessed, “where’re your mages?”

“In the school, somewhere,” Buffy admitted, “too dangerous for them to be at the Hellmouth itself.”

“And Spike?” Danny questioned, he and Danielle using their ectoblasts to burn vamps.

All around them, the battle raged on as the combined forces began beating back the Hellmouth vampires.

“He’s with our witches,” Buffy said, beheading another vampire, “doing what he can to keep them safe. Dawnie has Hope—”

“In the Realms,” Danielle said, “Dad evacuated them.”

“Oh, thank god.”

They were soon able to wade through to the Hellmouth where they find all the mages frantically doing ritual after ritual to close it.

“Your Majesty,” Constantine says around a cigarette, “we need some ectoplasm and blood—if you wouldn’t mind?”

Without question, Danny opened a vein and let his ectoplasm-infused blood flow onto the Hellmouth.

With a sound not unlike an erupting volcano, the Hellmouth closed.

“This’s just a patch job,” Constantine warned, “I’d like to get Dark over here to close it permanently.”

“Dark?” Spike asked; he looked beaten to hell and back but a quick sip of the Slayer had him well on the road to full health.

“Justice League Dark is the more…ah, occult arm of the Justice League,” Superman explained, “they handle situations like this Hellmouth of yours.”

“You have an entire team for this stuff?” Willow asked, wide eyed.

“Yes,” Batman nodded, sheathing his sword.

“Yes, please,” Buffy nodded, just as wide-eyed as Willow, “if you can close it for good, yes please!”

“We’ll schedule an appointment,” Danny said and everyone nodded; it was notoriously difficult for two dimensions to interact at the right time for both.

They swept through the town, making sure there weren’t any Hellmouth vampires (or any other vampires for that matter) hiding.

Then the visitors simply left through more portals, Dawn and Hope were dropped back off, leaving everything still and quiet for the night.

And Buffy cried, for she saw a light at the end of her tunnel for once and it wasn’t the ‘go into’ type.

(Within the month, the Hellmouth was officially closed for good; Buffy felt a weight lift off her shoulders).

Chapter Text

Higurashi Shippo:

The boy was choking but they were prepared; even before they left the Well, let alone the little Wellhouse, InuYasha was digging around in his pocket while Kagome held Shippo’s face to her chest.

“Found ‘em,” he brought the box of modified nasal strips out and carefully placed one on Shippo’s face.

Shippo slowly stopped coughing, taking shallow breaths that slowly deepened.

InuYasha nodded in satisfaction and scooped up Kagome and the kit, leaping from the Well and racing for the house.

Missus Higurashi was ready for them, holding open the door and not even grumbling at the bare feet in her house. InuYasha promptly dashed up to Kagome’s room, after setting her and Shippo down in the living room, and changed into more modern clothes before heading back downstairs at a jog.

“Mama,” Kagome was saying, “Grandpa, Souta,” the humans had gathered around her as she held a suddenly shy Shippo, “this’s Shippo, he’s the kitsune boy InuYasha and me adopted.”

“Oh my goodness,” Missus Higurashi breathed while Kagome’s grandfather readied his sutras surreptitiously.

InuYasha just as sneakily ripped the papers from the old man, ignoring the sting with practiced ease as he disposed of them.

Missus Higurashi was smiling at Shippo, saying, “Welcome to the shrine, Shippo. You can call me Grandma.”

“Like Grandma Sam?”

“InuYasha’s mom,” Kagome clarified.

“Oh, yes. Yes, exactly. I’m Kagome’s mother. That makes you my first grandchild, isn’t that exciting?”

Kagome set Shippo onto his feet and Missus Higurashi crouched, “Welcome to Higurashi Shrine, Higurashi Shippo.”

Kagome crouched too, kneeling and explaining, “We’re in Tokyo, Edo but bigger, busier.”

“Is that why it stinks?” Shippo asked innocently.

“We’ll take you out so you can see for yourself,” InuYasha said, “but humans have progressed since your time. They use noisy, smelly machines every day and night.”

“You can’t take him outside the shrine,” Missus Higurashi exclaimed.

“We have amulets,” InuYasha explained, pulling the amulets from his pocket, “they make us look human. My sister-in-law did the basic enchantments when I was a pup, so I could go around Paris with her and my brother, her husband. A different brother’s updated the charms and placed them on Shinto amulets so we can blend in.”

He put the larger necklace around his neck and Missus Higurashi gasped; InuYasha looked like an ordinary Japanese man around Kagome’s age. There was no hint of any inhuman attributes.

He placed the second one on Shippo; Shippo suddenly appeared completely human, a little younger than Souta but of school age. And in modern clothes.

“Oh. Alright. Well,” Missus Higurashi stood up, grabbing her shoes and purse, “come along, Kagome, Shippo…you too, InuYasha. We’re going shopping.”

Kagome blinked, “Shopping.”

“Why, yes. Shippo needs real modern clothes and such,” Missus Higurashi nodded firmly.

“Mama—what would we tell everyone?” Kagome pointed out reasonably.

“That he’s InuYasha’s cousin, now in his care, lost everything in a housefire, including his parents, isn’t that tragic?”

“I dunno, Mama…” Kagome looked at the two disguised males, before sighing, “alright, but if he gets overwhelmed we’re coming right back!”

“Of course, dear. Now, come along.”

Missus Higurashi headed off to grab her purse.

“So, Shippo, we’re going shopping; I want you to stick with InuYasha or me or my mom, okay?” Kagome instructed.

The kit nodded.

“And no riding my shoulder,” InuYasha interjected, “or Kagome’s back. You’re too big, for a human, to do that. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“And if you get scared or sick or something,” Kagome added earnestly, as Souta came racing down the stairs, “tell us. We won’t think any less of you.”

“Tokyo woulda made me sick when I was a pup,” InuYasha assured, “probably even with the nasal strip. So speak up, pup.”

“I will.”

They went to put on shoes when Kagome realized the first problem, “Oh, Shippo doesn’t wear shoes.”

“We’ll say they were lost in the fire,” InuYasha said, “I’ll just carry him. He looks young enough to still be carry-able for a human. We’ll get him some for appearances.”

With that sorted, off they went.

Shippo’s reaction to the world outside the shrine made them add that he was from a very rural prefecture to the story; but he didn’t stare at everything, content to know that Kagome or InuYasha would answer any questions when they returned home.

Shopping was mercifully easy, Souta having tagged along to help Shippo understand modern Japanese popular culture and make sure he didn’t dress ‘uncool’; none of Kagome’s friends made an appearance, much to her relief.

She had no way of explaining the close bond she had with a child she had just met, after all.

While the humans handled the clothing and human shoes, InuYasha ducked into a pet supply shop to get some shoes Shippo could actually wear. He bought dog booties in a couple different sizes and wondered why they hadn’t thought of it before. Shippo’s feet were very foxlike, almost being fox’s feet and paws, but could still get injured.

It took a few hours but eventually they returned to the shrine; having their things delivered later.

Then the barrage of questions began.

Chapter Text

Telling Someone:

Ayumi jogged up the shrine steps, wondering what Kagome had wanted to talk about.

The other girl had seemed anxious, scared even.

Maybe it was something to do with her boyfriend; he had seemed perfectly fine when she had met him, a little awkward but fine. He had been raised by Americans after all, adopted apparently.

Maybe it was—Kagome was at the top of the steps, waving down to her.

She seemed alright, no obvious injuries or wounds.

“Hello, Ayumi.” Kagome greeted her happily but nervously.

“Hi, Kagome. What’s going on?”

“Not out here,” Kagome shook her head, leading her friend to the house, “some people convinced me I should tell someone on the outside.”

Ayumi’s heartrate quickened, and she stopped her friend and asked lowly, “Are you in danger?”

“Not me,” Kagome assured, dragging her along, “and we have a Plan B if you—”

“Me? Kagome—”

“Not here, wait ‘til we get in my room—please. Mama.” She greeted her mother who nodded and gave Ayumi a suspicious look.

“He’s upstairs, Kagome.”

They took off their shoes, put on the slippers on offer, and headed up.

Kagome paused at her door and turned to look at Ayumi, inhaling and exhaling, “Last chance to walk away, Ayumi. I…I was told I need an outsider to keep me grounded as I…well…I’ll explain in a minute. I chose you because you were the kindest to InuYasha and I’m hoping you won’t…panic once you know the truth. But you can still walk away, right now. You pretend I never asked you here and we won’t ever speak of this again.”

Ayumi squared her shoulders, set her jaw, and shook her head, “I’m here, Kagome! Whatever’s going on, I need to know you’re safe.”

Kagome stared at her a little longer then nodded before turning and saying softly, “InuYasha, we’re coming in.”

There was movement inside the room and the door creaked open.

Kagome forced Ayumi to promise to try not to be scared, reiterating that if anything she was the dangerous one in the situation, then forced her through the small gap between the door and frame.

It was dark, in the room, and InuYasha sat on the bed, burritoed into a thin blanket. His eyes and mouth were closed.

Kagome shut and locked the door behind them before checking to make sure the window was also closed and locked.

She gave a shaky breath, flipping on the light, “Okay, Ayumi, InuYasha…nice and easy…one…two…three.”

Ayumi gasped, shocked, when InuYasha pulled off the blanket to reveal silver hair and dog ears while opening his mouth and eyes to show fangs and their golden color.

“InuYasha’s not…fully human,” Kagome explained a little helplessly.

“Gods,” Ayumi swore softly, eyes wide, “what’re you? You looked human!”

InuYasha moved slowly, pulling a necklace from his pocket and donning it; he looked human.

“It’s magic,” he said softly in his accent-less Japanese, “one of my sister-in-laws and a brother fixed it up for me so I could look human while I’m here with Kagome. I’m half inuyoukai.”

“Where’re you from, really?” Ayumi questioned, moving to sit at the desk as Kagome climbed next to the inhuman being on her bed.

Kagome interrupted and told the truth; about everything. The Well, the time-travel, everything but the ghosts.

So when InuYasha answered, “Originally Japan, 700 years ago, but I was adopted by Americans…who they are are even more secret than what I am.” Ayumi believed him.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Kagome implored, eyes wide and wringing her hands nervously, “if anyone believed you---if the wrong people believed you.”

“They’ll—” Ayumi turned slightly green at the implications.

“Then there’ll be a war,” InuYasha said quietly, “my family won’t let me be taken. Or Kagome. We can shut the Well, we can evacuate the Higurashi family, but we can’t evacuate the rest of the youkai no doubt already hiding in the modern age. It would be a genocide. They might even go after the priests and priestesses.”

“My lips are sealed,” Ayumi promised.

“Not even Yuka, Eri, or Hojo,” Kagome warned, “nobody outside my family knows, in this time. InuYasha’s family’s a complicated thing so you’re likely never meet them.”

“No one, ever. Ever,” Ayumi agreed.

Kagome and InuYasha let out matching sighs of relief.

“You said someone told you to tell an outsider,” Ayumi remembered.

Kagome laughed, “A lotta people, actually. InuYasha’s family are…varied. One of his Aunts is a time and space traveler—”

“No!”

“Yeah; she ran off with this…man with a time and space machine. Her mom thought she was dead for a year, and she lost all her normal friends because she couldn’t tell them what she had seen, done. She was the one who seriously told me to tell someone because she…she doesn’t feel like Earth is home anymore. She can’t even explain her kids. She still has her mom, duh, but…anyway, yeah.”

Ayumi nodded seriously, “Thank you for trusting me, Kagome. I won’t ever speak of this to anyone but a Higurashi.”

“There’s a teeny, little more,” Kagome admitted, “I—me and InuYasha have adopted the little kitsune I mentioned. Shippo? His mother died of illness and his father was murdered for his shard.”

“But you’re not…together?” Ayumi questioned slowly.

“No.” both replied before Kagome explained, “I’ve never claimed InuYasha as my boyfriend. You girls just jumped on the idea and it was a good cover story. So he acted like one but I never said he was mine, right?”

“Okay. Where’s Shippo now?” Ayumi didn’t quite believe them, she had two functioning eyes after all.

“Back in the other time,” InuYasha answered, “with the rest of our pack—group, family. Inuyoukai will build packs, either blood related or not.”

“We weren’t sure how’d you react,” Kagome blinked tiredly, suddenly seeming older; less like the carefree teenager Ayumi had assumed she was and more like a…woman with adult worries, “no way we’d bring him with us.”

“We had plans,” InuYasha grunted, staring Ayumi down, “in case you proved a danger. We would’ve called my family to…deal with you.”

“You would still be alive!” Kagome reassured quickly, “You just wouldn’t remember anything about this. As far as you’d know, InuYasha is human.”

“I get it…I think…”

They talked a little more before Ayumi went home; she hugged her friend fiercely and then…she reached up and tweaked InuYasha’s ear before dashing away from the stunned hanyou.

“Crazy humans.”

Chapter Text

Father's Blessing:

“Do come in, Spike,” Giles drawled, moving aside to let the vampire through the door, “tea? Something stronger?”

“Wouldn’t mind a pint or two of yer best, Rupert,” Spike chuckled drily, plopping onto a chair.

Giles poured the drinks and sat down, “What do you need, Spike?”

Spike slammed back his pint, motioning for another, “Need ta get yer permission, Rupert.”

“My…permission? Whatever for?”

“’m gonna propose a Mating ta Buffy.”

“My word…” Giles took off his glasses and began to polish them, “I don’t—they certainly don’t cover this in Watcher Training!”

“Now, I know ‘m not the sort you’d want fer her,” Spike began, “but, I do love her—more than I ever loved Dru, I can tell ya that. Can’t marry her, wanna but can’t. Churches an’ me—”

“Yes, yes…but are you quite sure? I’ve never heard a Vampire Mating a Human, let alone a Slayer.”

“Done the research myself too, Rupert,” Spike admitted, “went through yer Watchers’ books, asked ‘round. Talked ta the shaman bloke I got my soul from…nobody’s heard word ‘bout what happens. Shouldn’t Change her, not much, not inta a vampire.”

“William…”

“I know…I know, Rupert; lotta unknowns. But I…I’ve gotta try.”

“You will tell Buffy all this,” Giles instructed firmly.

“’Course I will! I’m not…well, that evil. She’s gonna go inta this knowin’ as much as I do!”

“Good,” Giles then sighed, “well, William, I give you my blessing. Because we both know Buffy doesn’t need my permission.”

He poured another round and they toasted each other.

Chapter Text

Giving it a Go:

She was glad Hope was outside with Dawn; she was glad she wasn’t holding anything.

Because there was Spike, proposing with that ugly old skull ring that didn’t fit her anyways but she had kept in her jewelry box since the Love Spell Incident.

Proposing a ‘Mating’. Whatever that was.

“Spike, get up; talk to me,” she ordered, pointing to the bed, “what the hell is a Mating? This is literally the first time I’ve heard of it…is it, like, marriage or something?”

Spike seemed shocked, even as she sat beside him on the bed, “The Great Poof never—”

“Literally the first time I’ve heard about it,” she promised realizing that whatever it was was something deathly serious, “so what’s the deal?”

Spike sighed, set down the ring, ran a hand through his hair, and began, “S’It’s like marriage alright, ‘cept there’s no divorce. Buffy, I thought—he went on all ‘bout yer ‘great love’, I thought maybe…”

“Nope, he gave me some Irish ring, I could never pronounce the name, said I was his girl, but never mentioned Marriage or…Mating?”

Spike sighed again, this time in relief, and said, “when vampires—most demons but I know most ‘bout vampires—want ta take a spouse they’ll do a Mating. No set ceremony, each couple does their own thin’, but the important bit’s the Bite. They have ta be damned sure of their love, ‘cause like I said, no divorce. The Mating will bind them fer eternity, Buffy. ‘Til dust an’ maybe beyond. I know it happens that if one of a pair dies, the other will too—”

“We can’t do the Mating,” Buffy declared firmly, though her eyes were suspiciously shiny.

“Slayer,” he sounded strangled.

“That’s just it, Spike. I’m the Slayer. Capital S, I’ve lived past my expiration date already,” she choked out, “I—I can’t do that to you. If I die…Hope and Dawn need you—”

He gave a choked off laugh, “Oh, Slayer; I dunno how it works with humans—no records of a vampire Mating a human, but ol’ Rupes an’ I theorize that ya could share my lifespan. My durability. ‘Cause in other demons, partners share their strengths with the weaker of the pair. An’ I love ya, adore ya, but, Love, you’re still mortal. All my strengths might become yers. Hell, you might give me yer daywalking ability. I dunno.”

“But if we try and it doesn’t work like that,” Buffy sniffled.

“Then we set up wills, make sure the kids are alright an’ ya get ta be very careful, ya already are careful. We make sure we never fight alone, even a fledglin’. Even if we don’t Mate, Buffy, I plan ta have ya fer a very long time.”

She chuckled wetly and nodded, “Okay…say I say yes…you mentioned a Bite? You have to bite me?”

“S’it’s a Claimin’ Bite,” he nodded back, reaching out to trace her throat, “if we do it all traditional, I’ll put it right…here.”

His fingers were to her pulse-point

“But you won’t…Change me?”

“Never. We could move the Bite if ya don’t feel comfortable with—”

“I do!” she blushed before repeating, “I just…Giles never mentioned anything but eating and Changing bites.”

Spike quirked an eyebrow and smirked, “Ta Change ya, I’d need ta feed ya some of my blood, ya know that, I hope.”

Buffy’s blush intensified as she nodded, “So I was being…not-so-smart right then. But I do trust you.”

“We can put the Bite somewhere else,” he repeated, fingers dropping to caress her covered chest, “I know it’s traditional ta some demons ta have it ta where only the intimate partner can see.”

“I’d want it on my neck,” she assured, “I’d want to show it off. Like wedding rings. Prove I’m yours and…can I—” she broke off, avoiding eye contact as she finished, “could I bite you?”

He used his fingertips to raise her head and meet her eyes, his normally blue eyes suspiciously golden and he nearly purred, “Oh, love. I’d love fer ya ta try. Maybe the Slayer demon’ll let ya return the Mating.”

“How do we do this?” Buffy asked in hushed, anticipatory tones, “Do we—”

“Wait, s’it’s a yes then?” Spike demanded, holding her gaze.

“Yes!” she bounced, embracing him, and putting her own mouth dangerously close to his still pulse-point.

He chuckled deeply, winding his arms around her, “Easy, Buffy. Let’s slow down a mo’.”

She pulled back and pouted, all doe-eyed.

“Oh, look at that lip; gonna get it,” he teased, leaning down to nip at her lower lip and causing her to giggle girlishly.

Spike pulled back, licked his own lips, briefly went into his vampiric face, and spoke seriously, “You have ta be sure; far as I know, nothin’ can break a Mating. Maybe s’it’s different while Mating humans.”

“Oh, Spike, I am sure,” she promised, “if we can’t marry, at least we can Mate.”

He searched her eyes, her face before nodding and then beaming.

“Right, then, submit to me.”

Buffy instinctually tilted her head to the side to expose her pulse-point; she didn’t even flinch as his vampiric face came out once more.

Quicker than a cobra-strike, he had his fangs in her neck; she gasped in pleasure.

He retracted his fangs, licking the mark he had made. Both of their pupils were blown wide.

Still, she moved to make her mark on him; he submitted easily and guided her with his hands to the matching place.

She bit down, gasping again as her teeth lengthened for an instant; he roared his own pleasure.

He barely waited for her to remove her teeth to pin her down to the bed.

It was a good thing the others had Dawn and Hope.

Chapter Text

Finding a Ring:

Spike left the bed, shrugging on his bathrobe—because he, one fourth of the Scourge, had a bloody bathrobe to cover his nudity now—and kissing Buffy’s forehead as she rested after their…celebrations.

He opened and closed the bedroom door near silently, jogging down the stairs just as quietly.

“Dada!” Hope called from Xander’s arms.

The vampire smiled but made no move to take her.

“Well, that’s one hell of a hickey, man,” Xander joked weakly as everyone zeroed in on his new mark.

Spike’s chest puffed out, “You’re lookin’ at a Mated man, Harris.”

“Finally!” Anya said candidly, “I had assumed—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on,” Willow made the time out signal for Xander who nodded his thanks, as his arms were rather full, “what. What’s that mean? Mated.”

“Me an’ the Slayer, we Mated,” Spike said slowly, as if talking to a small, rather slow child.

“It’s the demonic equivalent of marriage, Xander,” Giles rolled his eyes at Xander’s sputtering before eyeing Spike, “I daresay Buffy will have a matching mark. Congratulations are in order, I see.”

“You eloped?” Willow sounded hurt but also happy.

“Matings tend to be a private thing, unless it’s a political match,” Anya explained briskly, “usually involving s—”

“Anya! Little ears!” everyone, including Dawn, exclaimed.

“Oh, right, Hope,” the former demon rolled her eyes.

“Gave her my ring an’ everythin’,” Spike nodded, “gonna look inta gettin’ real bands. Somethin’ that fits her better than my ol’ ring.”

The women squealed, bouncing up to hug Spike, while Giles began thinking about what sort of enchantments could be put on a wedding band for the Slayer.

Anya began talking about styles and how he must already have a budget in mind.

“Hey, wait a minute, calm down now ladies,” Spike exclaimed, before explaining, “I’ll take her shoppin’ in a few days. If we can afford it, she can have it.”

Dawn backed up, grabbed a portal-ball from where they kept them, smashed it to the ground and disappeared through the resulting portal.

It closed behind her after fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes after the portal closed, another rippled open and Dawn came back, leading her uncle.

Danny was carrying a backpack, “Hear you need money for a ring or two.”

“Yes, Yer Majesty,” Spike nodded.

“Well, I know there’s a cave full of gold nearby,” Danny pointed out reasonably, “possibly jewelry too.”

Spike blinked, mouth dropping open as he realized they all had been sitting very near a little goldmine.

Danny held up the backpack, “This thing can hold sixteen tons of whatever you want, no matter the size. Go get dressed and we’ll head out.”

Spike did as told; Buffy was awake, “What’s going on?”

“Gonna go treasure huntin’ with His Majesty; get ya a proper ring,” he shrugged on his duster, kissing her, “Be back in a bit, love. Do this all proper when I get back.”

“Be safe,” she kissed him again.

“Safe as houses,” he promised and jogged down the stairs again, grabbing a portal-ball at the bottom.

“Who’s comin’ with?” he asked.

Anya volunteered, as did Tara.

Spike broke the portal-ball, a portal opening straight to the cave of glittering metals.

The quartet entered and got to work; it took twelve hours, some magic, and a few ghostly soldiers wielding shovels before a goodly amount of the gold and silver was packed away.

Spike had found several non-cursed or enchanted rings that he thought Buffy might like and stuck those in his pockets and on his fingers to carry them.

When he returned and showed her them, she chose one that was nearly identical to the Ring of Amara itself.

He proposed again and she said yes.

He beamed as he slid the ring into place.

Chapter Text

Psychology of Adoption, (or Jazz Meets her Nephew):

“Oh my gosh,” Jazz said quietly, staring down at her nephew as she held him in her arms.

When her mom had called her, telling her to get home as soon as possible, she had thought something horrid had happened.

However, whatever scenario she had cooked up in her mind during the flight home paled in comparison to a baby!

“How?” she choked, sure that if her brother and Sam—if they had—somebody would have told her!

Danny, clearly exhausted by having a week-old son, told the story.

By the end of it, Jazz had handed Damian back to Danny and had paced the living room angrily, fists at her side.

“That froot-loop!” she snarled quietly, wishing she could use stronger language but she had to set an example for everyone involved, “he’s just a—and his mom allowed it?!”

Danny nodded tiredly, “It didn’t seem like she had a choice, Jazz—I don’t think his grandfather is a very nice man.”

“Right, okay,” she leaned her forehead against a wall, breathing deeply, before standing up and saying, “research. We need to do research. Mom and Dad can do a DNA test. Damian doesn’t look fully white—interracial adoptions can get tricky. So, DNA test; we figure out his racial makeup and then we can pin down his culture—hopefully.”

The three teens paled; they hadn’t even thought of cultural issues.

From what Danny had said, the birth-family had definitely been not-white…Damian couldn’t ask now, feel alienated now, but he would eventually.

They would have to do the DNA test and then put out feelers to the appropriate communities and hope they got positive responses back.

“Could you tell what language they were speaking, Danny?” Jazz questioned but he shook his head.

“You know I can understand every language now,” he replied, “it sounded like they were speaking English. They might have been for all I know!”

Jazz pulled a notebook from her luggage, then a pen; “Describe everything for me. Every detail you can remember. Mom, Dad—”

“We’ll start the testing,” Maddie said as Jack took Damian from Danny, motioning for either Sam or Tucker to follow.

Tucker followed them, already booting up his PDA.

Danny sat down with Sam as Jazz took a seat and began from the beginning, wracking his brain for every little detail he could recall from all his senses.

Jazz recorded everything she could; from the grandfather’s name to the fact that the entire place had stunk to high heaven of corrupted ectoplasm but he didn’t know why.

Danny described what the grandfather and the mother had been wearing as clearly as he could, described their looks, their features.

Tucker carried Damian back upstairs, “Preliminary results: quarter Arabic, quarter Chinese, and half white with mixed English and Scottish ancestry. Possibly some Jewish ancestry but no matches to known lines. So far,” he handed Damian to Sam, running a hand through his hair and admitting, “we’re hacking databases for closer matches.”

He headed back down to the lab.

Jazz had written down the results and would later add her notes and the official results to Damian’s Important Documents file.

But for the moment, she closed her notebook and took Damian from Sam before shooing her and Danny up to bed as both seemed like a stiff breeze would lay them out.

For the rest of the day, Jazz did her best to bond with her nephew and babysat him so the others could work or sleep.

She also looked after Danielle once she got home from school.

And Damian slept on, unknowing of the factors now at work in his life.

Chapter Text

Ghosts Are Watching Over You:

“Dean,” Sam kneeled by the boy—Ancients, he was only four—and spoke softly, “My name’s Sam. We’re not gonna hurt you. Can you talk?”

Dean, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, shook his head.

“Okay, that’s okay, sweetheart,” Sam assured. “I’m gonna ask you some questions, okay? For ‘yes’ raise a finger, for ‘no’ raise two. Do you understand me?”

Dean hesitated but raised a finger.

“Good, good job,” she sat down crisscross style, “do you understand what’s going on?”

Dean shrugged.

“Oh, little one,” Sam exhaled slowly, “Your father sold you to my husband…we’re not gonna do anything to you or Sammy,” she repeated quickly as Dean shook more, “you’re safe, Dean, you’re safe; we’re gonna take care of you and your brother, okay? You’ve just been adopted; do you know what that means?”

Two fingers.

“That means you get a new mom and dad, if you want. I can be your mom, or your aunt, or a big sister.”

Dean shook his head before managing to croak, “Mommy’s with the angels.”

Sam nodded in understanding, further explaining, “Your Daddy wanted help so he gave you and Sammy to Danny—that’s the Ghost King and my husband—and me and our friend Tucker. I’m so sorry, little one; this isn’t fair to you or Sammy. But we’re gonna make it fair, okay? Oh, sweetheart…”

Dean had started crying—because he was only four and had just been given to strangers and a strange place and he wanted his mom and dad and everything to be normal again.

Slowly, carefully, Sam picked him up, giving him the chance to squirm from her hold, and brought his head to her shoulder as she hugged and rocked him.

He slowly cried himself out and was dozing when she stood up without disturbing him; she carried him to Medical.

Just by holding him, she could tell he was underweight and she swore to all the Ancients that he better not have been physically abused or else she would send Danny back to deal with the biological father.

Doctor Peterson was scowling when they entered, having just finished up with Sammy who was malnourished and underweight for his age group.

Dean’s examination, with vaccinations because any records had gone up in the housefire with their mother, showed more of the same. Malnourishment. But they had caught it early, thankfully, and it wouldn’t stunt either’s growth as they aged.

Tucker came in to take Dean, after being introduced, as Danny had Sammy, so that Sam could contact Frostbite for the Lactation Potion she had used for Damian.

Sammy could probably eat solids at his age, but she wanted to be prepared.

Then she rounded up servants to clean out the nursery and a room for Dean near the nursery, sent Tucker and Dean to the Royal Tailor to get the boy’s measurements as he and Sammy only had the clothes on their backs, warned the kitchens to start making vegetable and fruit purees, warned the child therapist they had on staff of an incoming patient, and called back the family to meet the newest members in a couple of days, once they settled in some.

She downed the first dose of Potion with dinner that night and ignored her chest starting to ache as she led Dean to first the nursery, so he could see where Sammy would sleep, then to his own room and tucked him in after explaining the pull-cord that would Summon Nanny Clara.

Sam found Danny still working on paperwork in their chambers, recording the specifics of the Deal for Dean and Sammy’s souls.

And so Dean and Samuel Winchester became Phantoms.

Chapter Text

A Courtly Spectacle:

The orchestra began as the King took his intended—for everyone watching knew they were seeing the future Ghost Queen—by the hand and led her into a dance.

Soon they were joined by other couples, each following the same footsteps.

Soon the King and would-be Queen separated and danced with others, all courtly manners as each danced with the opposite sex.

Very few people knew it had taken the young King months to get the needed steps down so precisely; a few were even scandalized that he was dancing at all!

A proper King would merely oversee the ball from his throne, his Queen by his side.

But there he was, dancing with the noble ladies of his court as he allowed his intended to dance with the Lords and Lairds.

Danny for this part was more worried about his steps as he danced something straight from Pride & Prejudice; Sam was doing all fine and dandy, she had done this before. She was trained for something like this, although her parents could never have dreamed about how poorly and yet well she would marry.

Indeed, there were still whispers about the living intended of the only half-dead King; how he had scorned ghosts of better breeding, for lack of better wording, of better position, all for some human girl and a cloned neverborn bastard.

But the King was still the King and so his word was Law.

And, he could have chosen worse, most of the nobles agreed; at least the girl had some manners and knowledge of her new status. More than the King at any rate. She could pass as, at least, noble without much coaching.

It was widespread knowledge that the King’s most trusted Advisor, and indeed his unofficial Protector, had searched far and wide for tutors to teach the young King of his new station. What wasn’t known was that he was taking lessons in the living Realm as well. As was the girl.

And it all came down to this; the Halloween Ball. The King’s first true ball to be held and attended by the nobles of his court. It was the first true showcase of his Kingly abilities, his grace and commanding presence.

Which the King had in spades; whatever else one might say about the young King, or his choices, he had a very Commanding Presence. As befitting the defeater of the Tyrant King.

Even the would-be Queen had an aura about her; one of Confidence and Grace.

Everyone, later, agreed that the young couple had acquitted themselves well.

After the ball, after the last guests had left, Danny and Sam collapsed into their beds, after checking in on Danielle and Damian.

Thankfully there were only four balls a year, in the Realms.

Chapter Text

Not A Hell Dimension:

Wesley boggled as a portal opened and he moved to shield the baby he held as two beings of incredible power came out.

One looked human enough, but that didn’t mean much with beings of great power, a woman with purple eyes and black hair, her skin had a slight green undertone.

The other was clearly a ghost, though much more solid than any ghost Wesley had ever read about, a man.

“Uncle Danny, Aunt Sam,” Dawn bounced up to hug them oh-so-casually—and they hugged her back warmly, even the ghost—before motioning to Wesley, “This’s Wesley—he used to be a Watcher like Giles—and he’s holding Angel’s son, named Connor. We need to get him somewhere safe ‘cause there’s some prophecy that Angel will kill him.”

“I was told vampires here couldn’t have children,” Danny mused, peering at the baby.

“We can’t, usually,” Spike assured, “or else me an’ the Slayer would have sprogs runnin’ ‘round ourselves.”

Sam nodded, “So, magic’s involved is it? Lemme guess, another Prophecy?”

“We believe so…if I may,” Wesley spoke, still shielding Connor, “who are you?”

“I am King Danny Phantom of the Infinite Realms, King of Ghosts and other noncorporeal undead,” Danny introduced, “she is my wife, Sam Phantom. Queen. We semi-adopted Dawn and helped with the Glory situation.”

“Your Majesties,” Wesley bowed.

“I’ve an idea, Danny,” Sam said and used a portal-ball to open a portal to Wayne Manor.

Five minutes later, the Scoobies, Wesley, and Connor were ensconced safely in a lounge while Sam and Danny explained the situation to the Waynes.

Dick had a quick conversation with his spouses before declaring, while holding his own daughter, “We’ll take him.”

“You sure?” Buffy questioned, “If Angel loses his soul and gets here—”

“The League can handle one vampire, or even the Titans,” Koriand’r replied firmly, taking her new son into her arms, “Angel can try to get here.”

“He’d have to get through the Realms first,” Danny added, nodding, “or even into it.”

Wesley looked relieved, “Thank you. Thank you.”

Dawn piped up, “Wesley? What’re you gonna do? Angel will kill you for taking Connor.”

“Throw myself on the mercy of the Council, I suppose,” Wesley sighed, pale, “and my father…”

“The League needs an archivist,” Bruce rumbled, “stay here, we’ll get you settled; you can watch over Connor and possibly write letters back to Angel on how he’s doing—”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, “we’ll explain there was a Prophecy and you pulled him for his safety. Angel’ll will probably still hate you but—”

“Maybe we can do supervised visits when Connor’s older?” Wally offered, “When he’s older; we can have a Super ready to heat-vision this Angel vampire?”

The next few hours were spent hammering out a plan.

Wesley was to be a relative of Alfred’s who had brought the orphaned son of his late friend to America because the father had made some enemies in Ireland. The Graysons-Wests-Waynes had immediately fallen in love with the little one and had offered to adopt him. Wesley, overwhelmed, had agreed.

Mariand’r Grayson-West-Wayne was only a few days older anyways so they could be raised as twins.

Then the Scoobies were escorted back to Sunnydale.

All they could do now would be wait for Angel to arrive.

Chapter Text

Angel Visits:

Angel arrived within two nights.

“Where are they?” the vampire demanded, vamped out.

“Away from you,” Buffy replied as Spike chivvied Dawn and Hope through a portal to the Infinite Realms, “Angel, calm down. He had good reason to—”

“He kidnapped my son! My boy, Buffy!” Angel roared.

“There’s a Prophecy!” she screamed back and he stuttered to a stop.

“What?” his game face melted back into his human visage, “What Prophecy?”

“Here, Deadboy,” Xander tossed a rolled-up scroll to Angel, who caught it, “hope you can read whatever language it’s in.”

Angel unraveled the scroll and began reading, losing whatever color he once had left, “What—I’d never—Wesley knows—”

“Angelus; Wesley knows ya, Gramps,” Spike pointed out, “thing doesn’t say yer gonna eat the sprog. Could be yer worst half.”

Angel choked on an unneeded breath, “I’d—why—”

He closed his eyes, took a step back, set the scroll down, and said, whispered really, “My boy…my son…my miracle. Is he safe?”

The Scoobies took pity on him, Buffy saying softly, “Yes, Angel. He’s already been adopted; Wesley’s with him.”

“And his adopted family, are they…good? Loving?”

“Superheroes in their own dimension,” Buffy nodded, “He has…a lot of power on his side now, Angel. And they just met him but we saw them, right guys? They already love him. He has two dads and a mom and a sister now. Not to mention aunts and uncles and cousins and two grandfathers. Each of who could kick Angelus’s butt inside out.”

“Dimension?” he choked again, sitting down heavily with his face in his hands, “Wesley really thinks—how did you get him out--?”

“We have family,” Buffy explained, “people who helped with Glory, remember her? They helped kill her dead. They have…access to other dimensions. They have kids from other dimensions. They couldn’t take Connor themselves, too many kids already and he has a Prophecy attached anyways. They helped get us in contact with one of the biological parents of one of their kids; his son and the son’s spouses are the ones that adopted Connor.”

“And you trust them…?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. ‘Cause they—they adopted Dawn, the people with dimensional passes, when Glory was running around and I made a terrible mistake. They’re the ones who brought us Hope, the person, not the emotion. Saved her from another dimension where she’d be killed just for being herself or turned into a weapon.”

“You’re not telling me everything.”

“Because I can’t trust you, Angel. Not while your soul can disappear in a second of happiness,” Buffy shook her head, pleading, “please know we’re telling you everything we can.”

Angel sighed heavily, nodding as he stood up, “…Okay. I’ll trust you. But, if you ever see Wesley again, he’s dead as soon as I find him. Make that clear.”

“He knows. That’s partly why he stayed with Connor. For what it’s worth, he is sorry.”

Angel gave a bitter bark of laughter and stalked out.

The Scoobies gave a collective sigh of relief and slump down in sympathetic grief at what they had to do.

Buffy and Spike particularly; if one of the Scoobies ever thought that they needed to get Dawn or Hope away from them…

Chapter Text

Bruce Babysits:

Jenny collapsed into Bruce’s arms; instinctively, he completed the hug, rocking her back and forth.

No matter how old she looked, this was a young child.

A young child on the verge of losing everything.

His children, his nephews, and Danielle gathered around them, each helpless for all their skill and power.

Bruce closed his eyes, still rocking Jenny; there was nothing for him to do to resolve the situation for her.

The Justice League, The Titans, Young Justice…none of them could be risked going into a possibly failing universe, to go against an omnicidal maniac who could and would wipe out entire Realities.

And the problem was too large scale, delicate for individual heroes to be sent without knowing the lay of things much better than they did.

So Batman turned his mind to other plans; they could pass Jenny off as a relative of Alfred.

She, like the Kryptonians and Tamaraneans, could at least pass as human, provided one didn’t listen to her pulses.

Or perhaps she would rather stay with the Kents, with Clark who knew all about being the last of his people.

Jenny had cried herself to sleep; Connor gently took her into his arms, a cradle carry, and followed Alfred to the room set aside for her.

For the next few days, the children stuck together and Bruce found himself giving more hugs than ever before; certainly not since Dick was a child.

For a touch-telepath, Jenny was a very tactile person.

A week went by before a portal opened in the den.

Two people came out.

Jenny scrambled up and to them, “Mum! Dad!”

The Doctor and Rose hugged their daughter between them before they thanked Bruce for hosting her.

“Daleks,” the Doctor explained with a quiet anger and grief, “and their creator, Davros. He had created a Reality Bomb but…” he gazed at his partner adoringly, “they were no match for Bad Wolf.”

“Safe from the False Gods, my Doctor,” Rose murmured back, one eye golden briefly.

“But they’re gone, for now, right?” Jon asked hopefully.

“For now, yes,” the Doctor nodded before repeating, “thank you again, Mister Wayne—”

“No thanks needed, and, please, call me Bruce,” Bruce stood up to shake hands, “Jenny is delightful and we’re happy to be of help.”

With that, the trio of time-travelers said their goodbyes and left through another portal.

Chapter Text

Supervised Visitation:

The farm was unnaturally quiet, still as the vampire stepped foot on it; the animals, perhaps, sensing the predator and doing what came instinctually.

As soon as Angel stepped onto the farm he was surrounded by Supers, each ready to dust him with heat-vision.

He had been warned about them; about how he would be watched closely during his visits and about how one wrong more would get him dusted.

Angel didn’t care; after seven long years he was finally allowed to see his son again. His Connor.

Floodlights came on, focused on his position as he sat at a plastic picnic table and waited.

He heard Superman—Superman—use some sort of communication device to contact someone.

There was a small tornado, appearing from the still air, before it dissolved into a redheaded man in a scarlet costume. The man was holding a boy.

Was holding Connor.

“Angel?” the man called, cradling Connor to himself protectively.

The vampire found his voice, staring at his son, “Yes, I’m Angel…you’re Wally? My son’s adoptive father?”

Wally grinned and took his mask down, “Yeah. One of them, at least. Dick and Kori stayed home with the other kids,” Wally became serious, “I’m a speedster, Angel; if you make one wrong move towards Connor, I’ll have him out of here in a literal nanosecond.”

“Understood.”

Wally nodded again, got a nod from the circling Supers each, then set Connor down, leading the boy closer.

If Angel had had to breathe, his breath would have caught; he couldn’t speak to his own features in the boy, having not seen his own face in a mirror in two centuries, but he could see Darla.

“Hi, Mister Angel,” Connor said almost shyly, holding out a hand, a tiny hand compared to his, for a handshake.

Angel cleared his throat, taking that small hand in his own and being very careful not to use any vampiric strength, “Hello, Connor. I am so happy to see you again.”

“Uncle Wesley stole me to save me,” Connor nodded wisely, hopping onto the bench, “he did a very bad thing for good reasons and he’s very sorry.”

“Yes, well,” how it galled to have that traitor be called ‘uncle’, but Angel smiled warmly, anxiously, “are you happy, Connor? I know you’re safe, but are you happy?”

“Yes, even when Grandpa Alfie makes me eat vegetables,” Connor screwed up his face cutely and Angel chuckled.

They talked for hours, until the sun started to lighten the sky at the horizon and Connor started yawning.

“He…burns easily,” Wally explained, scooping up his son, “nothing lethal. But he needs magical sunblock. A friend of ours makes it by the cauldron full. We think it’s because both his biological parents are vampires.”

It pained Angel that his son may have had the less desirable aspects of his own condition.

“My fangs are also bigger!” Connor chirped, showing that his incisors were indeed larger than a normal human’s.

“Likes his meat a little bloody but doesn’t drink blood,” Wally assured as everyone prepared to leave, “some above average strength and speed. Nothing truly vampiric, Angel. Just a little different. We’re calling him a metahuman.”

“Okay,” Angel nodded before smiling at Connor, “love you, Connor. Can’t wait to meet you again.”

“Bye, Mister Angel!”

Angel stepped into the portal just as dawn truly broke.

Chapter Text

The Prophecy was Fake:

The King was in a towering temper, a temper that made the Realms tremble.

The Queen was grasping his hand, trying to tether him.

“What do you mean it was fake?” The King demanded of the sniveling demon.

“Wolfram and Hart,” sniveled the demon, cringing away from the ecto-heat the King was radiating as he tried to keep from exploding then away from the furious Slayer and her friends, “they wanted the vampire, Angel—it was—”

“Spike, wring whatever information you can from this bastard,” Danny snarled, kicking at the demon, “I want every drop. Go Scourge on him if you have to.”

Spike nodded and dragged the demon, now screaming and wailing, off.

“Sam, get me a stable portal to the Waynes,” was his next order, “I want Wesley on the line, now.”

Sam, for once, hopped to and opened a temporary portal to Clockwork’s.

“What have we done?” Tara murmured.

“Aided and abetted in kidnapping for no reason,” Giles replied heavily.

“Get me Angel, on the phone, right now.” Danny demanded, “Right now.”

Sam returned as Anya hurried off to grab the nearest phone and dial for Angel Investigations; a stable portal bloomed open and Wally, Dick, Kori, and Wesley came out.

“What’s going on?” Dick demanded.

“The Prophecy—about Angel killing Connor—was faked,” Sam explained while Danny flew to the phone where the vampire in question waited impatiently.

The three Waynes looked devastated; Wesley puffed out a breath like it had been a physical blow, “What?”

“Wolfram and Hart,” Sam said and Wesley’s knees nearly buckled; only Kori kept him upright.

“Spike’s getting whatever information he can,” Sam promised.

“Oh God,” Wesley whimpered, “what have I done? What have I done?”

Another portal opened and Angel stormed through, “What—my son! Wesley, I told you—!”

“Cool it, Deadboy,” Xander got between the two men, “Wesley was doing his best on what information he had. We all were. We’re all the bad guys here.”

“Angel, I made the decision to ask for dimensional help,” Buffy stepped in front of Xander and Wesley, stake in hand in case she had to make that choice, “blame me. I made the call that we couldn’t keep Connor here and risk you finding him. If you try to kill anyone, kill me.”

“We thought—Oh god—” Dick said, moving toward Angel, “if we had known, we never would have taken him.”

Angel stared the man down, clearly trying not to vamp out on him; as furious as he was, and Angel was furious beyond anything he had ever felt—if there was an opposite of ‘Perfect Happiness’, he had found it—before grounding out. “I am thankful you took in Connor like you did, Dick. You, Wally, and Kori have done the best by him. I just—I’ve lost everything with Connor because someone I thought a friend, an ally, didn’t think to trust me.”

Angel visibly collected himself before admitting, “Part of me wants to kill you all and take Connor back. Part of me wants to fight for him. But, I won’t. I won’t do that to him. I do demand more visits—I demand unsupervised visits. Here. With the rest of my friends. My family.”

A quick, silent conversation happened between the throuple before Dick nodded, “Yes. Yes, of course. We’ll work something out. We’ll also tell him what we’ve learned.”

“Angel, I am—” Wesley started but the vampire let out an animalistic snarl, gameface on display.

“Get out, Wesley,” Angel said, clearly straining for control, “if I ever see you again, I will kill you: I’ll make anything Angelus ever did look like child’s play.”

Kori shuffled the British man back through the portal.

Danny opened a third portal and disappeared, no doubt to bleed off his own fury somewhere safe, leaving Sam to help hammer out a new custody arrangement for one Connor Grayson-West-Wayne.

Angel did agree to host his son’s adoptive twin during visits but put his foot down on supervision; Buffy argued him down to having the visits in Sunnydale where the Scoobies could be on standby for demonic incursions or other sudden apocalyptic scenarios that could no doubt pop up and need all hands-on-deck.

They would not hover during visits, nor supervise every interaction, but would be waiting in the wings for any sign of trouble whether demonic or domestic.

Because Angel hadn’t had Connor on his own since the boy was a baby, let alone a half-alien girl, and the Scoobies were experienced in childrearing special children.

Angel begrudgingly saw wisdom in the idea of having a lifeline for domestic matters.

Dick and Wally happily agreed to have bottles of Connor’s special sunblock made and sent with the boy for his visits so Angel’s humans and the Scoobies could take the boy out during the day and instructed what to do if Connor still became burnt.

Angel began taking notes as they told him of Connor’s dietary needs and daily routines, warning that the visits would only happen during summer vacations.

Angel agreed amicably, not wanting to disrupt the boy’s life more than necessary.

Buffy agreed if anything happened, she would personally stake Angel herself then flush his dust down the toilet for added insult.

Both vampire and Slayer agreed that any other vampire, except Spike, wouldn’t get near Connor without being dust.

The Scoobies collectively agreed to treat Connor as their own.

It was near sunset when Spike reappeared, covered in demon blood and looking grim; he would record what he learned as soon as he could.

Eventually everyone went home, grief and guilt yet hope flowed through them.

Chapter Text

The Devourers:

“Why the hell are those things around the students? Around anyone alive or dead?” Danny demanded of Dumbledore.

“You know—”

“Of course I know what they are! They—they shouldn’t be outside the Realms,” Danny admitted, curling his tail around himself like a snake curling around a carcass, “or even outside…well, I can’t tell you that…too mortal to understand. Even I don’t really understand that metaphysical bull and I’m supposed to understand everything about the Realms.”

“The Dementors…” Dumbledore prompted.

“We call them…many names, common one is ‘The Devourers’,” Danny shivered, “if you want a soul destroyed, no coming back, no reincarnation, no…just…gone, you feed it to a Devourer. Pariah Dark, the Tyrant King before me, the one I managed to seal away again, not destroy, just seal…He created them. Twisted the souls of those who died of starvation…desperation…no matter how many souls they eat they’re always hungry. You’d call what he did Dark Magic. Makes the Horcruxes look like child’s play, like the best magic ever. You feed a Devourer and you absolutely End someone in the process.”

“We…use them—” Dumbledore began, sickened.

“As guards, for your prison, as capital punishment, I know—but why? Sirius didn’t—isn’t—”

“Sirius Black, what does he have to do with the Dementors at Hogwarts?” Dumbledore asked hoarsely, mind racing.

“In the…Timeline we’ve averted. Sirius was framed by Pettigrew,” Danny explained slowly, choosing his words, “and sent to Azkaban. He broke out, to protect Harry. But everyone thought—”

“He was after Harry,” Dumbledore finished grimly, “no one has broken from the prison before, you know. So they placed Dementors around the school to apprehend him.”

“He’s a shapeshifter, form of a large black dog,” Danny said absently, “but he wasn’t—someone broke out, but who?”

“Bellatrix LeStrange.”

Danny swore.

“Ah, you’ve heard of her? Those books of yours, perhaps?” Dumbledore asked knowingly.

“If the real one’s half as crazy and loyal to Voldemort…” Danny trailed off, “I’d station the army around the school but with the Dementors I can’t risk them. But—”

He seemed to think for a moment, maybe two, before saying, “I’ll put out an AGB—an All Ghosts Bulletin—for the UK. Have every one of my people be on the lookout for her. If we can catch her before she gets near Hogwarts, I can have my people round her up.”

“Could you not just—”

“The Dementors won’t listen to me, Albus,” Danny said tiredly, “only Pariah Dark could command them. I don’t know how your ministry dealt with them because they don’t…they don’t really think beyond their next meal. Maybe having a steady source of food makes them controllable but I won’t risk my subjects. They look to me for protection from things like the Devourers—I can’t just—”

“Are the Hogwarts ghosts at risk?”

“Everyone’s at risk,” Danny groaned, wiping his hand down his face, “if the Dementors break free from what little control you guys have…this entire school’s a buffet. Not even the Soul Contracts I have on Potter and Longbottom will save them. Soul destroyed, no soul to own, bye-bye any protection I can offer. Albus, who’s the Defense teacher this year?”

“Sirius Black and Remus Lupin are sharing the post.”

“Have them teach the Patronus Charm—I know it’s considered Advanced Magic, I really don’t care; get as many people capable of it as possible. If the Dementors invade—”

“We will need every wand possible,” Dumbledore nodded in agreement, “I will speak with all the teachers of the wanded subjects—Filius, Flitwick, the Charms professor—can possibly teach it as well.”

“I know at least one third year managed to master it in the books and then taught it to a group of their year-mates two years later,” Danny encouraged, “they had a particular aversion to the Dementors so Lupin taught them personally. They were pretty average too.”

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, “Yes, I think all years lessons might work best then. We’ll hold them in the Great Hall.”

“We need an—the Chamber of Secrets!” Danny nearly shouted, eyes bright, “We can use the Chamber as a bunker. Have the elves clean it out. Harry can open it—still dunno why but he can! Get all the ones who can’t use the Charm, close the doors behind. We’ll further evac into the Realms if necessary.”

Dumbledore agreed, “But what if the students are outside?”

“Scatter. That’s all I can say. They need to run. Some will probably be Ended but then you can start a riot with the parents against the Ministry…Ancients, Albus, the Dementors already stopped the train and nearly got Harry. If Lupin wasn’t there—hell, get the Ministry involved now, Harry comes from an Important Family right? And Neville was there too. Hell, you had Weasleys in the same compartment. Have the families speak out against use of the Dementors. Maybe the Ministry will post cops here instead”

“Yes. Yes,” Dumbledore stood up, moving towards the fireplace.

Danny stayed quiet as the wizard worked.

Chapter Text

Monster Under the Bed:

Giles woke up to his phone ringing.

He scrabbled for his glasses, half asleep, before standing up and grabbing the handset, “Hello…?”

“Giles,” Dawn replied, “earwig with tentacles demon thing, hides under beds, go.”

“Excuse me, Dawn; it’s—”

“I know, but there was actually a monster under Hope’s bed, Buffy and Spike are fighting it right now and we’re really creeped out because it looks like a giant earwig with tentacles—Hope, it’s okay, we’re okay, I’m on the phone with Grandpa right now,” Dawn said off to the side and Giles could hear an unhappy, scared child under her voice, “Mommy and Daddy are gonna beat the monster stupid.”

He headed for his supernatural and mystical childrearing books, grabbing one that professed to be about common household demonic pests that were attracted by children.

A lot of demons fed on children in one way or another.

“It sounds like an Iidsa,” he murmured, stopping on the entry in question, “they feed on pleasant dreams and leave only nightmares…”

“Great, how do we kill it?” Dawn prompted, clearly distressed by her niece’s fear.

“There should be a triangle mark on the chitin, stab there and it should…melt away? How odd…”

“Okay, Hope, talk to Grandpa Giles, I have to go tell Spike and Buffy—”

There were the sounds of the phone being handed off and then Hope, sniffling, said, “Grandpa?”

“Hello, Hope,” Giles gentled his voice, distantly hearing Dawn shouting instructions to Buffy and Spike in the background of the call, “I bet you’re being very brave.”

“Daddy said he’s a bigger, meaner monster,” Hope explained, “that no other monster can get me. Mommy got kinda mad though.”

Well, Giles supposed, that was one way to comfort a child when one was a vampire; Spike definitely was a ‘bigger, meaner monster’ than some household pest of a demon.

Instead, he said, “I know your Mummy and Daddy can take care of it, but you were very brave to tell them about the monster.”

“I think Daddy’s mad another monster got in the house,” Hope said, calming down.

“No doubt,” Giles agreed, knowing that Spike was a territorial vampire when it came to the ones he loved.

“Bite-size,” Giles heard Spike rumble, “talkin’ to Granddad?”

“Uh-huh, Daddy. Bye Grandpa! Love you!”

“Love you too, little one,” Giles heard the phone being handed over, “Spike.”

“Rupert. Coulda warned us ‘bout monsters under the bed.”

“Honestly? I had assumed one wouldn’t dare invade the home of the Slayer and a Master Vampire.”

“Not smart,” the vampire agreed, “well, Slayer’s off doin’ perimeter checks, Bit’s checkin’ the beds an’ closets.”

“And you?”

“Slayer’s told me ta stay with the kiddies.”

“Well, fair enough, I suppose,” Giles yawned.

“Go back ta bed, Watcher,” Spike said, surprisingly gentle, “all’s quiet on the home-front tonight.”

“Don’t hesitate to—”

“We know; Bite-size, come say goodnight ta granddad.”

“Goodnight, Grandpa,” Hope yawned.

“Goodnight, Hope.”

Giles hung up, chuckling at his current life, and went back to bed.

Chapter Text

Dates:

“Yo, King Kid!” Johnny greeted, Kitty echoing it, as he parked midair, “Whassup?”

“Why’re you out, guys?” Danny questioned tiredly.

“On a date, Johnny and me, we’re back on,” Kitty replied, popping her gum but being otherwise polite, “we ain’t causin’ trouble this time, Phantom. Heard ya have a baby now. Didn’t know your girl was—”

“Damian was Sold to me,” Danny explained quickly.

“Who’d sell a baby?” Kitty demanded; she had always had a few soft spots for kids. Once she might have dreamed of being a mother but then…well, Johnny was better than some boring working man anyways.

“Some froot-loop waiting a little longer life,” Danny growled, “so I took him. Wasn’t gonna leave him with the crazy guy. Gave the dude a few more days…of horrible agony.”

“Good. Where’s your girl? At home with the baby?”

“Nah, Dami and Dani are being watched by family,” Danny pointed below them and the ghostly couple saw Sam waving up at them from a picnic, “we were told, in no uncertain terms, to go be kids for the day.”

“Oh, Ancients,” Kitty gasped, “we interrupted your date, didn’t we?”

“No, just saw you. Wanted to make sure you guys knew I’m off the clock. My guards would deal with any trouble right now and I can’t promise they’d be as nice as I am.”

“Oh, no, Little King,” Johnny shook his head, “me and the girl are just goin’ for a ride. Got Shadow on a tight leash. No trouble from us today.”

“Good. So…have fun?”

Danny allowed himself to sink to the ground as Johnny revved his bike and took off.

“Any trouble?” Sam asked, offering him a water bottle.

“Nope. We’re clear,” he replied, taking a drink before grinning, “so, where were we?”

“Well, we were about to kiss…” Sam mused.

“Ah, that’s right…”

It wasn’t a fake-out make-out this time.

Chapter Text

Jessica Moore Lives:

“Dean!” Sam nearly lifted his brother from his feet with the force of his hug, before he released him and called back into the house, “Jess! Dean’s here!”

Sam led Dean into the house and a blonde woman met them with a smile.

“Dean, Jessica, my fiancée; Jess, one of my brothers, Dean,” Sam made the introductions and Dean and Jess shook hands.

“Hi, Dean, it’s great to finally meet you,” Jess said as the moved to the kitchen where fresh cookies were waiting.

“Lovely to meet you too, Jessica,” he replied before his eyes bugged out when Sam brought out his wand, “Sam!”

“It’s alright, Dean, she knows about magic,” Sam assured as cups filled themselves with milk from the fridge and floated to the table.

“But the Law—”

“I checked when I moved out of Scotland—as long as we’re serious, I can tell her. I even checked with Grandpa C.”

“Ah, yes, the mysterious Grandpa.” Jess said teasingly.

“You haven’t told her?” Dean questioned as they sat down to cookies.

“Was hoping to do that now, actually,” Sam admitted before turning to Jess, “Jessica, you know I’d never outright lie to you, right?”

Jess sat up straighter, “Yeah, Sam, I know that…?”

“So, what I’m about to tell you is a bigger secret than magic,” Sam took her hands, “remember how I told you that me and Dean are adopted?”

“Yeah…?”

“And how you asked a bunch of questions when I told you about magic. Like if ghosts were real?”

“Of course, you said they are and Dean puts them to rest—Are…are your parents ghosts, Sam?” Jess asked in a concerned voice.

“Currently, only Dad is,” he rushed to reassure her, “Mom’s slated to become one on death but she’s alive right now. But…our parents rule ghosts and other noncorporeal undead. Dad’s the Ghost King, Mom’s the Queen. Our older sister’s the Crown Princess…”

“What? Sam, does that mean—?”

“We’re just Wards, Jessica,” Dean picked up, gently, “because our biological father, a man named John Winchester, sold our souls to Dad—”

“Your Souls?!” Jess nearly screamed, searching Sam’s face, “Oh, Sam, how—”

“It’s okay, Jess,” Sam assured, standing up to take her in his arms, “we’re okay. When Dad gets sold souls, he adopts the person as his kid. His Wards, legally. John wanted revenge—remember what I told you about our birthmother—and Dad helped him get it. I was a baby—I don’t remember John or Mary, our bio-mom, but Dean does a little bit. Dad won’t hurt us. He and Mom loves us and are furious, even now, that John sold his sons into who knows what.”

“The King before Dad,” Dean added as Sam rocked with Jess, “woulda used us for literal human sacrifices; John didn’t know about the regime change. He made a Deal without knowing what he was doing to us.”

“That—that—” Jess stuttered, face red in anger.

“Froot-loop?” Dean and Sam offered as one before Sam explained, “That’s our catch-all term for…people like John. The family tries not to cuss.”

“That Froot-loop!” Jess screeched, “How dare he do that to you! What if—”

“We know, honey; we know how lucky we got,” Sam soothed, “Dean had a run-in with John awhile ago and told him to…kark off.”

Jess slowly calmed, asking, “So is that it?”

The men winced, “Ah, no...”

Sam held her tighter, “I’m not…not from the world, Jess. Our parents rule the Realms between dimensions…two of my brothers come from here…UK actually but this world, and they’re wizards too. So when I started showing signs of magic—”

“Your parents sent you to the magical school over there,” Jess finished for him, taking deep breaths.

“I exist here legally,” Sam added, “Grandpa Clockwork—one of Dad and Mom’s advisors—got all the documents lined up. We can still get married…I’m not an…illegal immigrant or something.”

“Oh, Sam; of course we’ll still get married, all this doesn’t change that I love you,” Jess promised before looking at Dean, “are you…you’re just visiting this world, aren’t you? Just for Sam and me.”

Dean laughed, “I like her, Sammy! No, Jess. I run around our original dimension; putting down the bumps in the night when they get too bumpy for humans. There’s a dead-end road nearby. Just opened a portal and walked through.”

Jess nodded, looking back at Sam, “So, when do I meet your parents?”

“Right now if you want,” Dean offered, “I have a portal-ball.”

And so Jessica Moore was taken to the Realms where she truly met her future-in-laws.

Chapter Text

Visiting:

Angel paced back and forth, waiting anxiously for the portal to open; Connor, and his sister Mar’i, were coming for a visit.

As part of reparations, the King had bought the vampire a house not far from Buffy’s, indeed it was only three houses away, and had had it warded by the best mages he could get his hands on.

Angel was in the living room, which was the biggest room in the house, waiting. It had been decided not to overwhelm the kids with the rest of the AI crew, and not to leave LA undefended.

Finally, the portal opened and Kori walked out with a child on either side of her.

Each child was hauling luggage, though Connor also had a backpack on.

“Mister Angel!” Connor greeted, dropping most of his bags and running up for a hug which Angel gave, “Mar’i! Come meet Mister Angel. Mister Angel, this’s my sister Mar’i.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mar’i,” Angel held out a hand for the girl to shake, taking in her green pupil-less eyes, dark hair, and tan skin.

How they ever passed the two off as twins, he didn’t know.

“Hi, Mister Angel,” Mar’i said, shaking his hand with some inhuman strength.

Connor had taken off his backpack and had shoved it at the vampire, “Uncle Wesley sent my book too.”

Angel focused on the bag, pulling out a large leather-bound journal and asking, “Your book, Connor?”

“Wesley has been keeping track of Connor’s development,” Kori spoke up, “especially compared to a normal human. We ask that you continue his observations while Connor is with you.”

Angel wanted to snarl at the thought of his boy being treated like an experiment, but Kori continued, “Wesley has pointed out that Connor is unique, and we do not know his developmental milestones as well as we should. Wesley started keeping a record so we could compare. There has been nothing invasive. We have not allowed blood draws or the like. However, we have allowed Wesley to train Connor, and Mar’i, as if they were Slayers. Because Connor seems comparable to a Potential, or so Wesley says.”

Angel closed his eyes; he could see why they were tracking Connor as he grew and why he was receiving Slayer type training. He was, after all, the son of two Master Vampires. Such parentage left more than an interesting diet and sensitivity to the sun.

“Okay,” Angel agreed, tucking the book back into the bag, “I’ll keep records while he’s here…do they have documents? Legal ones?”

“One of the King’s advisors has taken care of it; they are both registered as being born in a small town in New Jersey. They have Social Security Numbers for this world; copies of the needed documents are in their luggage,” Kori explained, “the King will pay any medical or dental costs, along with a budget for food, clothing, and entertainment. I know Miss Chase has a bank account for you now, Angel. Has the money been deposited?”

“Just got the first payment before I came down,” Angel nodded, “we’re good. Willow stocked the pantry and Buffy and Spike went shopping for everything else.”

“Very well,” Kori nodded back before gathering her children to her, “please, children, behave for Angel and his friends.”

“We will,” they chorused together.

“What’s the rule?” Kori asked, kneeling.

“No overt powers unless it’s an emergency!” they answered as one.

“Very good. I love you both very much and eagerly await your return,” Kori gave them a hug each before standing up, nodding to Angel, and leaving through the portal which closed behind her.

Not five minutes later, after the children put their things in their bedrooms and had settled on the couch while Angel tried to figure out what to do next, a knock came at the door.

Angel put a finger to his lips, grabbed a nearby sword, and answered the door to find Buffy.

“Willow felt the portal,” she explained, “I wanted to know if you wanted to bring the kids over to meet everyone tonight or wait ‘til tomorrow?”

It was decided to head to Buffy’s for dinner, after she was introduced as “Aunt Buffy”; it was a nice night, so they walked while Buffy and Angel explained the Sunnydale Rules. Namely no going out at night without Angel or one of the Scoobies.

“Connor! Mar’i!” Hope was waiting with Spike, on the porch, and greeted her occasional playmates with glee.

The kids were herded into the house and introductions were made.

“Who’re you?” Connor asked Spike, having the other Scoobies be introduced as aunts and uncles, or in Giles case ‘Grandpa!’ by an excited Hope. But not the blonde man.

Spike crouched, “Well, little man, s’it’s a bit complicated. See, Angel over there made a vampire named Drusilla. If we get technical, she’d be yer sister an’ your niece, ‘cause yer bio-mum made Angel a vampire then they made ya the human way. Now Dru—Drusilla, I call her Dru—found me a’wanderin’ one night an’ made me the vampire ya see today. So technically, I’d be your nephew an’ grandnephew.”

“But you’re married to Aunt Buffy?” Connor questioned.

“That I am,” Spike nodded.

“Then you can be my uncle,” Connor nodded firmly, “’cause you’re old!”

“Hey!” Spike said good-naturedly as everyone stifled laughter, “Angel has a century on me an’ Darla—yer bio-mum—had several!”

“You’re old,” Connor repeated, not at all phased when Spike vamped out to try to scare him playfully.

“We can tease the elderly later,” Xander called with a chuckle.

“Xander! I am over a thousand years old!” Anya pouted.

“Still look good for your age, not a day over nine hundred,” Xander soothed his wife with a wink and another chuckle, “but, we can play around later. We should get the rugrats fed.”

Everyone worked together to dish up dinner, steak—rare for the vampires and Connor and medium to well done for everyone else—and several side dishes with condiments that would give everything a little kick.

After the meal, Angel took his charges back to his temporary home and got them ready for bed.

“Goodnight, Mister Angel,” Connor said sleepily as he was tucked in.

“Goodnight, Connor.”

Angel went to check on Mar’i and found her quietly playing with some Lego, “Don’t need to sleep as much as a pure human, huh?”

“No, Mister Angel,” she shook her head before, “neither does Connor but he hasn’t slept for a while, ‘cause he was nervous and excited about visiting.”

“Really?” he joined her on the floor and began building with her.

“Yep.”

And so he got to know his son’s sister.

It was a good night.

Chapter Text

It was another Kingship lesson.

Horsemanship.

It had been something Danny had been looking forward to and dreading at the same time.

He had of course been on pony-rides but to have actually ridden a horse under his own command?

Never.

Thankfully, his instructor knew this and had pulled the calmest horse, ghostly of course, from the King’s stables.

A horse named Moses; he was the color of a perfectly cooked pancake, had white socks, and a fat white stripe down his face. All with a tinge of green of course.

Moses withstood Danny’s fumbling attempt to mount up, standing stock still as the young King flailed and kicked his way up into the saddle.

The instructor, the head of the King’s mounted troops, made him practice mounting and dismounting from the ground before they even started riding. As a human and a ghost.

Once his mounts and dismounts were satisfactory, and not injurious to Moses, the riding lessons started.

With the instructor leading him on a lead-rope and side-walkers on either side of him, Danny was taught the basics of horseback riding in an English seat.

After a few weeks with a leader and side-walkers, Danny was allowed, if not outright required, to ride on his own. His instructor assigned another mounted soldier as a riding buddy then started teaching Danielle.

Her horse was named Jake. And he was a dead-ringer for Black Beauty, sans the green tint. He too was patient with her.

Danielle declared Jake her horse and he was promptly made such and retrained for official occasions.

Danny, however, graduated from several horses to a pale mare named Rose; she was trained for most Kingly duties and was a beauty with a calm temperament. She and Danny got on well.

Over the years, all of Danny’s children trained on Moses, moving up the different horses and then claiming their own.

Each was an accomplished equestrian and the Royal Ceremonies were often not complete without at least half riding together.

Chapter Text

Uncle Sesshomaru:

“This Sesshomaru has heard the half-breed has sired a pup,” Sesshomaru spoke calmly, “on a priestess no less.”

“What’s it to ya, asshole?” InuYasha demanded, blocking the way to the tent even as he felt its’ protections activate.

“This Sesshomaru demands to meet this lesser hanyou,” the lord said simply.

“Like hell—” InuYasha began but Kagome exited the tent, Taishi in his carrier.

With only a little hesitance, she walked up to the inuyoukai and showed him her baby; Sesshomaru did not touch the infant but both adults saw his nostrils flare.

“How is this possible?” Sesshomaru spoke, “this child is fully hanyou; he should be less than even a half-breed.”

“InuYasha makes youkai…seed,” Kagome explained, blushing only a little, “I am purely human. So, we have a hanyou baby, not a quarter-youkai or less.”

“This Sesshomaru understands this,” Sesshomaru nodded curtly, “this Sesshomaru is…amused that this Sesshomaru’s sire’s blood still runs true in a new generation. Very well, Priestess. This Sesshomaru will now take his leave.”

And so the inuyoukai left in a ball of light.

“Kagome! What were you thinking?!” InuYasha demanded.

“That I was changing for a purification if he made a wrong move,” she replied calmly, holding up a hand that was softly glowing an ominous pink, “started charging for one as soon as he appeared. Had Sango put Taishi in the carrier.”

She shook out her hand, like she was trying to dry it, and the pink dissipated.

“He could have killed you—”

“Besides, I think he was just curious,” Kagome continued, “he didn’t try anything, ‘Yasha. He was...Probably just heard about Taishi and wanted to come check.”

“I—If he had—”

“And, he’s mellowed out since taking in Rin; he’s changed, ‘Yasha. Or don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do,” InuYasha assured, “I just don’t trust him!”

“Well, I don’t think we have to worry about him for a while,” Kagome soothed, “and next time, you can hold Taishi and Imari.”

“Okay.” InuYasha nodded slowly, “that’s the plan then. Next time, I’ll hold the pups so you can purify his—butt properly.”

With that, they returned to the tent.

Chapter Text

The Chip:

“Have you gone insane?” Xander bellowed.

“I don’t like it anymore than you do, Xander,” Buffy replied firmly, tiredly, “but if those Knights of Whatever kidnap Dawn, I need him to be able to fight them.”

“What ‘Knights’?” Danny, having been watching the conversation devolve into an argument, spoke up mildly.

“Buncha Medieval Times rejects,” Spike snorted, “comin’ ‘round ta make sure Her Bitchiness don’t get the Key…by destroyin’ said Key. Humans, as ya might’ve gathered,” he knocked his knuckles against his own skull, “with this blasted chip in me—”

“Wait, what ‘chip’?”

“Was captured by a buncha government patsies, thought they could do a better job than the Slayer an’ her merry band of misfits when it came ta the bumps in the night. They implanted a chip in my brain, makes it ta where I can’t say boo ta a human or else I’ll get a nasty headache. Had ta throw myself on the Slayer’s mercy ta survive, ‘cause I can’t feed like this.”

“They were trying to build a demon army,” Willow added somewhat angrily, “real Nazi types when it came to nonhumans. Even you, Your Majesty, would’ve been declared ‘hostile’ and they would’ve tried to slay you if they couldn’t capture you for Goddess knows what experiments.”

“Oh, those types. Yeah, we had a group like that in my world,” Danny nodded, “except with ghosts. Even passed an Anti-Ecto Act declaring all ghosts non-sentient and malicious. I don’t think I need to point out the flaw there.”

“How did you handle—”

“First real act as King,” Danny looked distinctly uncomfortable, “went straight to the President himself and proved I was sentient and then threatened to bar any new ghost from the Realms and, if that didn’t work, Total War. He struck down the laws and disbanded the GIW—the Ghost Investigation Ward—claimed he had no clue as to how they got started. The GIW was working off a lot of my parents’ old research, back when everyone thought all the ghosts in our town were causing problems just because.”

He paused, “But back to Spike; Buffy wants this chip removed?”

“We can’t trust him!” Xander declared, “That chip is—”

“A liability,” Buffy cut him off.

“A monstrosity!” Willow said at the same time, “If he’s that dangerous, they should’ve just staked him, Xander! He can’t even defend himself right now! What if the Initiative comes back for him? Other demons like Clem or even someone like Anya and Buffy? Witches? Dawn? Where will they draw the line on what’s human and what’s not?”

“Willow is correct,” Giles agreed, though he looked sour about doing so, “about the Initiative hunting other supernaturals—”

“Buffy, Anya, and Dawn are human,” Xander argued, “so are—”

“Am I really?” Buffy snorted, “Spike’s chip doesn’t work on me, Xander; am I human? Dawn’s human now but she was originally mystical goop! Who’s to say Spike couldn’t hurt her without the chip firing—”

“I’d never, not the Nibblet,” Spike assured.

“We know, Spike,” Dawn spoke up, “but Buffy and Willow are right; if the Initiative learns about me…the Knights already want me dead…”

The teen shivered.

“I used to be a demon, Xander,” Anya reminded him sharply, “I’m human now, but I wasn’t. What if they come and take me for experiments? Because I wasn’t always human. Besides, a vampire of Spike’s rank should never be leashed. Willow’s right. You either kill them or not; it’s cruel to do anything else.”

“Enough!” Danny called them to order, before saying softly, “Dawn, do you trust Spike not go on a spree if he gets—de-chipped?”

“Yeah. He’s in love with Buffy,” Dawn said knowingly, “he’s not gonna make her hate him! And…he’s always been good to me.”

“I trust him,” Tara spoke up, blushing at the attention of everyone, “he’s always been nice to me…and Buffy’s right, with the Knights and the Initiative—”

“I trust him not to mess with the good thing he has going here,” Anya said firmly, nodding.

“Okay, that’s three for,” Danny nodded, “Giles?”

The Watcher mulled it over before sighing, “I agree we need him against the Knights and with that chip—I defer to my Slayer.”

“Three for, one neutral.”

“I’m for,” Willow said, “if only so Buffy can stake him with a clear conscience if he does mess up.”

“I’m against—he’ll kill us all,” Xander grumped.

Buffy was thoughtful before turning to the vampire in question, “If I say yes, there’ll be rules, got it? Only animal blood unless you’re injured and if you leave Sunnydale without my permission—”

“Got it, Slayer. On parole, me.”

“Exactly,” Buffy nodded, “we’ll write out a proper list of rules later—we can even haggle some—but as long as you behave…we’ll get the chip out and not stake you where you stand.”

Danny clapped, “There you have it, folks; the vampire gets de-chipped! I’ll talk to Frostbite—I think he has a brain surgeon on call—if not then we’ll find someone.”

Chapter Text

The Chip II:

It was the day.

Spike was to be de-chipped.

A neurosurgeon had been found, in Sunnydale, and the Medical Wing of the Palace prepped its’ operating room.

The vampire had not fed for twenty-four hours, as instructed, and now lay on a gurney, in a gown, with his head shaved.

He had been promised that his hair would grow back with enough feedings and Buffy had promised to help style it again.

Heavy duty drugs had been ordered in; the type one would never use on a human, and a self-circulating IV drip had been rigged up and inserted into neck as Buffy did compressions to force circulation more.

Finally, his eyes began to droop then they closed; immediately, he was rushed into the OR where he was strapped down and the operation conducted as quickly as possible.

Skin flayed open, a piece of skull removed, the chip was deviously innocent looking; a thing of metal and plastic, materials that no vampire would naturally fear.

The brain had healed around it, growth slowly strangling it, making it harder to remove.

A nurse was sent to ask Buffy for a blood donation; Slayer blood had healing properties for vampires and no vampire had ever had brain surgery.

Who knew how Spike would wake up, if he would wake at all.

Outside, in the waiting room, the Scoobies waited anxiously; Buffy was pacing, stake changing hands, back and forth, back and forth. She was mumbling, some prayers, some self-recriminations as she paced.

She feared she was making a terrible mistake, letting a proven cold-blooded killer free. She feared having to put him down.

Dawn would never forgive her.

(She would never forgive herself for putting them all in danger…for…it didn’t matter…)

Her friends could give her no solace, given their own misgivings about the procedure; only Anya seemed untouched by fear and her opinion of ‘stake him or kick him out of town’ had been made abundantly clear in the days leading up.

Then the nurse came out, rushing Buffy off for a donation.

It took hours before the neurosurgeon came out, holding a little kidney dish with the chip inside, “I don’t know how he is—normally we would check brain activity but he currently has none despite having some earlier—but it’s out. He’s in Recovery; we’re currently flushing his system of the drugs.”

Buffy moved swiftly, stake still in hand and a bandage around her wrist of the same, into the Recovery room.

His bed was cranked into an upright sitting position and there were a few feet of gauze around his head. A saline drip was running to his neck.

A bag of her blood was already waiting for the vampire to wake.

With her free hand she unwound the bandage and then waved the wound under his nose, smearing almost dry blood across his upper lip.

His eyes, still blue, fluttered open, “Buffy?”

Without a word, she grabbed the blood bag and held it to his mouth, waiting for him to vamp out; he did so droozily, as if in slow motion, and drank slowly, blinking just as slowly.

Once the bag was drained dry, a nurse bustled in and unwrapped the vampire’s head; the incision was already well-healed by the Slayer blood now coursing his veins and the nurse snipped out the temporary stitches.

Already, a light peach fuzz covered his head.

Spike didn’t make a sound as this happened, sitting pliantly as the nurse worked.

As she did so, she asked questions to get a basic understanding of where Spike was mentally.

Buffy confirmed his answers as correct.

He was kept overnight, fed more Slayer blood, before being released to Buffy and Dawn’s care.

The next week, he was back to his former glory; proven by his killing of a Knight that went after Dawn on his watch.

Buffy found she couldn’t be angry.

Chapter Text

A Family Reunited:

The portal opened.

Jackie Tyler moved fast, scooping up her son and rolling to dodge the barreling TARDIS clearly about to crash in her lounge.

The blue box skidded to a halt just before She hit the wall, smoking and groaning.

The portal closed.

Jackie peeked over a ruined settee as the TARDIS’s doors opened and out came the Doctor, carrying; “Rose!”

The doors to the room burst open at Jackie’s cry, Pete leading a charge of security guards from Torchwood. Little red dots trained on the Time Lord.

Another blonde young woman came racing out from the TARDIS, a handgun aimed at Pete.

“Jenny,” the Doctor said softly, laying Rose down on a somewhat intact settee, “disarm now. We don’t use guns.”

“But, Dad—”

“Now, Jenny. Your mother will be very upset if you shoot your step-grandfather.”

The identified Jenny made a face of displeasure but made a show of disarming, ending with kicking the gun over to Pete.

“Well, Ja—” the Doctor began but found himself in a strangling hug.

“Tell me,” Jackie demanded, “when I first met you, what did I do?”

“You slapped me,” the Doctor pouted but returned the hug warmly.

“What happened—you said—”

“Jacks?” Pete called.

“Oh, it’s them, Pete. Drop the guns and grab Tony.”

“As I was about to say,” the Doctor pulled back, “we have…family now, able to get past the walls. They have portal makers that can open…doors.”

Jackie let him go, turning to her daughter and dropping to her knees, “Oh, Rose! What happened?”

The Doctor knelt as well, running the sonic over Rose, “She’s fine. She tried to stabilize the TARDIS in this universe—Ol’ Girl doesn’t like it here much—but she should be waking up…”

Even as he spoke, Rose’s eyes opened; they were gold at first but that faded to brown as she blinked, “Mum?”

“Rose!”

Mother and daughter embraced; the Doctor left them to it, standing up and wandering over to Pete who was now holding a toddler boy. Jenny followed him.

“Hello, Pete. And who’s this little one?” the Doctor bent down but stayed out of the boy’s personal space as he waved.

“Tony Tyler,” Pete introduced proudly.

“Hello, Tony, I’m the Doctor,” the Doctor held out his hand and shook the boy’s seriously.

“Hi,” Tony said shyly.

“Jenny, come here,” Rose called with excitement, “come meet yer gran!”

Jenny did so, smiling shyly as Rose said, “Mum, this’s my daughter, Jenny—”

“How long—I thought you said—” Jackie was flustered.

“Oh, no, no, no. She’s biologically mine but I was never pregnant. She was never a kid,” Rose rushed to explain, “we landed on this planet. The people there were at war an’ they cloned more people fer the war. They tried clonin’ the Doctor an’ his sample was contaminated by my DNA. They cut the back of his hand, Mum—”

“You’re always holdin’ hands,” Jackie sighed knowingly.

“Yeah, so ‘m her mum—she’s only five percent mine,” Rose further explained, smiling at her daughter lovingly, “but that doesn’t matter ta us. So, they tried clonin’ the Doctor an’ out popped Jenny as she is now. She’s only a few months old.”

“Oh, lemme look at ya!” Jackie said, grabbing Jenny by the shoulders to look her over, “Rose, she—”

“Looks a lot like me, yeah, we know,” Rose nodded, grinning, “but she’s got the Doctor’s—my first Doctor’s—eyes, doesn’t she?”

“That she does; she’s darlin’. Jenny, was it? Just call me Gran, alright, love?”

“Got it, Gran.”

They slowly migrated to the dining room, where staff had set out platters of sandwiches and pitchers of water.

Rose met her little brother who became quite attached to her; he sat in her lap as the adults and Jenny talked. Rose automatically cut Tony’s sandwich into manageable pieces, cutting off the crust.

“So, you found more family?” Pete prompted.

“One of my ancestors,” the Doctor began, “became a powerful ghost—yes, yes, I was wrong, I admit it.”

“Anyway,” Rose continued, helping Tony reach his sippy cup, “apparently, this ghost—name’s Clockwork, by the way—he Advises the Ghost King. He, the King, an’ his wife are lovely people, adopted a buncha kids. Living kids. Anyway. So Clockwork borrowed the Crown Princess, Danielle, an’ sent her ta prevent me from fallin’ inta the Void. Then, she was sent further along our timeline ta prevent Jenny from being killed. The Ghost King, Danny, and his wife, the Queen, Sam, decided since the Doctor’s related ta Clockwork’s mortal form, we’re family.”

“Most of their children,” explained the Doctor, “come from different dimensions so they had to figure out a way to cross the Walls. It’s easier for them, since they rule a section of the Void itself; called the Infinite Realms, where the Restless dead exist. The Realms apparently connect to all dimensions.”

He pulled what looked like a marble from his pocket, “They call it a portal-ball. Break it while thinking about your destination and it opens a portal to it for fifteen minutes. We portalled into the Realms then used another to open a portal here.”

“I just had ta think of my mum,” Rose smiled at her mother, “how much I missed ya; think Bad Wolf made sure we didn’t get the wrong version of ya. Didn’t even think ‘bout Pete or my baby siblin’, just wanted ta see my mum.”

“Oh, sweet’eart,” Jackie murmured, giving her daughter a hug from the side. Rose clung to her,

“We won’t be able to visit often,” the Doctor warned, regretfully, “the Ol’ Girl and Rose can’t handle that well. You saw how we landed. But once every couple of months is completely doable.”

“You seem comfortable with a toddler, Rose,” Pete pointed out.

She laughed brightly, “The family’s huge an’ we do some babysittin’ when needed. We’ve gotten used to kids of all ages.”

“We’re only asked when they need to get the children out of the Realms for some reason,” the Doctor assured before smiling, “but we often host, Danielle, the Crown Princess, and a couple more clones—from another dimension. Everyone’s assured us that having friends over is important for a child’s development.”

“An’ Connor an’ Jonathan have the girls over in their dimension too,” Rose nodded, “their godfather hosts them. He’s rich, he has the room and the privacy fer aliens an’ ghosts ta just have fun, ya know?”

Jackie and Pete nodded in understanding; clearly Jenny, like her father, could pass as human to any superficial examination but they weren’t human. And a ghost?

“Kon and Jon are half-alien too,” Jenny spoke up, “they’re half-clones of Superman.”

“No!” Jackie gasped, having suffered through Mickey’s comics phase with a smile and having picked up some knowledge of the characters he favored.

“Yep. So if we really want to have fun we have to be pretty isolated,” Jenny explained, “so we either go to Uncle Bruce or their grandparents’ farm. Dani—Danielle’s a half-clone too. Some other ghost wanted to clone her dad but used her mum’s DNA to stabilize her…ish. They still had to make a stabilizing agent for her when she got free and they found her. Her mum’s fully human.”

“I’m glad ya have friends, love,” Jackie said, “friends that understand the…yer life.”

“Oh, they more than understand!” Jenny laughed, “turns out there—in Kon and Jon’s dimension—we’re all a telly programme!”

“No!”

“Yep! Seen a few episodes myself; we sometimes make a night of it. Doesn’t get everything right, like Mum was supposed to come over here with you and I was supposed to die but then get up and run away looking for my dad. We were never supposed to meet, according to the telly.”

They continued talking well into the night and only stopped when it was clearly time for the Time Lords and Demigoddess to return home.

“Take care of ‘em, please,” Jackie murmured as she hugged the Doctor goodbye.

“Of course I will,” he replied, “this isn’t a forever goodbye; we’ll be back.”

“I know, but I know yer life,” she pulled back, wiping at her cheeks, “s’just…be careful.”

“We’ll try, Mum,” Rose said from the TARDIS, “take care of everyone here, alright. Just two months an’ we’ll be back.”

“An’ ya better marry her, ya plonker!” Jackie added to the Doctor who flushed.

“Alright,” he said loudly, over Rose’s laughter, “better back up.”

He smashed the marble and the portal opened to somewhere awash in greens and purples; he entered the TARDIS, closing the doors and they rocketed off into the portal.

It snapped closed after a few minutes.

Jackie began planning for their next visit.

Chapter Text

Tylers meet Phantoms:

“Christ, Mum,” Rose said as she took in how Jackie, Pete, and Tony were dressed, “we’re just meetin’—”

“Royalty!” Jackie squeaked. They were all done up like they were meeting the Queen at Buckingham Palace itself!

“Honestly, Mum, they don’t care,” Rose rolled her eyes, grabbing her mother’s wrist and tugging her through the console room and to the wardrobe room, “I told ya ta dress casually. Let’s just hope the Ol’ Girl has clothes fer ya.”

It took about an hour to get everyone redressed, in things much more casual but still nice, before Rose led them back to the console room.

Jackie was clearly anxious, “Are ya—”

“’m sure, Mum. Danny an’ Sam don’t do formal unless they have ta. Unless you’re an annoying subject or someone threatenin’ war, ya don’t even have ta call ‘em by their titles. They’re just Danny an’ Sam ta family.”

“Lookie what I found,” Jenny bounded from the innards of the TARDIS, holding a tiny bike helmet.

She went to her toddler uncle and put it on him, making sure it fit right, “Landings in the Realms are worse than normal ones. The TARDIS does Her best but the Realms give her…nausea? A headache? She just doesn’t do good.”

“Oh, goody,” Jackie said lowly, hugging a strut for dear life already.

“Let me protect Anthony,” Bad Wolf came out, holding out her arms; without hesitation, Pete handed his son over.

Bad Wolf settled Tony in her arms, against her chest and shoulder, and then spread her feet and crouched slightly, clearly bracing for impact; she stayed steady even as the TARDIS began Her flight.

Everyone else was thrown about the console room, the Doctor and Jenny barely holding on to work the console, but Bad Wolf and Tony did not move an inch.

The landing was rough, just as Jenny said it would be, throwing even the Time Lords to the grated floor before the TARDIS stopped quaking.

Jenny recovered first and stood up, rubbing her shoulder, to peek out the doors, “We’re in the Palace. Uncle Danny and Aunt Sam are waiting…”

Slowly, everyone picked themselves up and Rose reemerged, straightening with some popping from her knees.

Jenny led the procession out, racing to hug a man and a woman, “Uncle Danny, Aunt Sam! How’re you?”

Danny and Sam chuckled and hugged her as one, “Good, doing good. You?”

“Perfect!”

She let go of them to drag Jackie, who was hesitant, forward, “This’s my Gran, Jackie. Mum’s side, duh. Completely human. He’s my step-granddad, Pete, and Mum’s holding my uncle, Tony.”

“Yer Majesties,” Jackie tried to curtsy even though she was in trousers, “an honor ta—”

“Oh, enough,” Sam chuckled, “didn’t they tell you? We don’t do formalities with family.”

“Family?” Jackie’s eyes were wide, “I know Rose said—but—”

“We count Clockwork as family,” Danny explained, “and he’s claimed the Doctor as family. The Doctor and Jenny. Rose’s basically married in by this point. Common-law, you understand. That makes her family our family. Welcome to the Palace, your home in the Infinite Realms.”

“My god,” Pete muttered, somewhat disbelieving.

“Not a god, not yet anyways,” Danny winked.

“Where’s Dani?” Jenny burst out, “Is she still in school?”

Sam grinned, “With Anakin, in the nursery. We let her stay home today.”

“Oh, Gran! Can I introduce Tony to Anakin? Please!” Jenny nearly begged.

“Anakin’s our youngest,” Danny explained kindly, “around Tony’s age, actually. We also have a nanny looking after them, Nanny Clara. He’d be perfectly safe.”

“Well…” Jackie looked to her husband, who nodded, “if you’re sure.”

Jenny cheered and took Tony from Rose, dashing off with him deeper into the Palace.

“Jenny knows the Palace as well as anyone,” Sam assured, “and if she gets lost, she can flag down a servant for help. She’s heading directly for the nursery. It’s the most defensible part of the Palace.

Danny stood up, helping Sam, “C’mon, we can talk over food; stay close, Tylers. Doctor?”

“Rose and I can bring up the rear,” the Doctor agreed, taking Rose’s hand as they began walking.

The Palace was a gothic masterpiece, in a very literal sense, though even Sam had wearied of all the gloom and had sought artists and artwork to fill the halls, soft, plush carpets and tapestries to keep the warmth, glassworks to fill the once barred windows. Statues and busts dotted the hallways, some classical, some avant garde

Masters had given their masterpieces, their magnum opuses; they were paid handsomely of course, in either coin or material.

Oils, watercolors, acrylics, textiles, glass, all created for Her Majesty the Ghost Queen.

For His Majesty the Ghost King.

It wasn’t yet a riot of color, nor would it ever be, but it was more alive.

Jackie gasped and the group stopped, turning as one to see what had captured her attention.

“When they said the family was huge…”

Ah, it was the most recent family portrait; all the children were gathered around Danny and Sam, all in formal wear.

“We…sometimes people sell the souls of children to me,” Danny started, causing her and Pete to whip around to him in horror, “I know, it’s horrible, isn’t it? But anyways, we adopt the kids. Only Dani—Danielle—isn’t adopted.”

He pointed out each child and gave their backstory.

“Good Lord, you were young!” Pete said at Damian’s story.

“Old enough to be king,” Danny shrugged helplessly, “it…it wasn’t easy, we had help, so much help, and we made mistakes…”

“All parents do,” Jackie told him softly.

“So we’ve been told,” Sam smiled just as softly, “and we’ve learned and made new ones with each kid.”

Danny coughed and continued to point out kids and tell stories, until all had been covered and then they moved on.

As they neared the dining room, Danielle and Jenny joined them with each holding a toddler.

“Oh my,” Jackie said, taking in the Anakin Skywalker; she knew who he grew up to be, or would have if he had not been adopted.

“We’re hungry, Dad,” Danielle said.

Danny waved them into the dining room where the smaller table was already set for a meal; there were two chairs with booster seats and Jenny and Danielle put Tony and Anakin in them before sitting beside them and helping them get food.

The group chatted over the meal, Jackie and Pete slowly relaxing at how easy going the Royals were, and generally had good cheer.

After the meal was done, Jenny asked, “Do we put their photo up on the family wall now? I know you’ve got me, Dad, and Mum…”

Danny chuckled, “We can, if they’re okay with it.”

“Family wall?” Pete questioned.

“We keep walls of pictures of the extended family,” Sam explained easily, “you know, like Rose, the Doctor, and Jenny. Harry’s and Neville’s parents. Damian’s paternal birth-family. The Royal Portrait is just the immediate royal family. The walls are for everyone and everything else.”

Danny and Sam led the group out of the dining room and down another hallway; the walls were plastered with photographs. Some were professional, most were candid and amateur.

A common camera sat on a small round table; a high-end camera but nothing too expensive or professional.

Danny picked it up, saying, “If Jackie, Pete, and Tony don’t mind—”

Jackie decided it would be a family photograph and dragged the Doctor in; Rose and Jenny came without complaint.

Danny took a set of pictures.

After that was done, it was decided it was time for the Tylers to leave, taking pity on the still disgruntled TARDIS.

They were, however, invited to the next family gathering.

Chapter Text

Amazons vs. Amazons:

He was surrounded.

Amazons on all sides. In the trees, in the underbrush. Hiding, in plain sight.

His world’s Hippolyta wanted him dead, had come to kill him personally; being the only man to have gotten away, to have subverted an Amazonian daughter.

They thought he was cornered.

He wasn’t.

He smashed the portal-ball; it was an experimental one, made to last an hour instead of fifteen minutes.

He smashed it against the ground and the portal opened.

To Themyscira.

Where another army of Amazons waited for their cue; they streamed out, Wonder Woman at the front.

Dean hunkered down as the two factions went to war.

“Imposters!” came the cries from both sides as metal met metal.

Diana faced Hippolyta; things went quiet as fighting stopped, all eyes on them.

“Girl,” Hippolyta sneered, “you come to aid a man?”

“Amazons are beings of peace and love,” Diana spat back, “you have harmed this man once before, your daughter using him as breeding stock and planning his murder. Dean Winchester is family to the Amazons of Themyscira.”

Hippolyta’s Amazons began murmuring; Themyscira was the mythical homeland, long lost and from which their ancestresses had been cast.

“Themyscira? Ha! You know nothing of which you speak, child! Themyscira has been lost for millennia!”

“In this world, perhaps,” now Diana sneered, “in my world, however, Themyscira still stands and welcomes every Amazon who swears to peace and love. We are warriors, yes, but we protect those that cannot protect themselves.”

She raised her voice, “My mother, Queen Hippolyta, welcomes all Amazons who swear to our ways and Goddesses. All those who wish to join us, merely step through our portal.”

“What about our daughters, sired by men?” one Amazon called desperately.

“All Amazons are welcomed,” Diana repeated.

Hippolyta attacked but Diana caught the blade with her bracers; the shockwave sent the rogue Amazon flying back.

“I have been blessed by our Goddesses,” Diana explained, advancing on her as she backed up for every step forward, “Athena, Artemis, Aphrodite, Hestia, and Hera! I am my mother’s Champion to the World of Man! I have pledged to uphold our ideals in the face of danger and hatred! You, Hippolyta, are nothing but a weak creature, parading your femininity like some badge of honor when you are nothing but a monstrous woman! How many of your daughters, granddaughters, great-granddaughters have you brainwashed into hatred for all things male? How many boys of your line have you had killed? For the crime of being born?”

“I—Amazons! To me!” Hippolyta cried out.

None of her sisters or daughters moved to her aid; instead, one, then two, then four laid down their arms and entered the portal.

More and more Amazons entered Themyscira, abandoning Hippolyta and her murderous methods.

A few hung back, “Our daughters…”

“Dean, take some of my Amazons, follow them back to the children,” Diana instructed the man, “remove them to Themyscira.”

Immediately, a small group of Themysciran Amazons surrounded him and took custody of the other Amazons.

“Traitors!” Hippolyta shrieked as the group moved to leave the forest and head back to town.

Dean and the Themysciran Amazons were led to a normal looking house.

“Stand down, Sisters,” one of the captured Amazons called, “they’re friendly, more sisters.”

“The man,” one of the guards argued.

“Lady, I’m here to help,” Dean replied, “your Queen’s probably dead by now; we’re moving all Amazons to Themyscira. Especially the kids.”

“Themyscira…” the guard wondered.

“He is telling the truth, Sister,” a Themysciran Amazon called, “I am known as Arissa and I, and my sisters, live on Themyscira. Our Queen has welcomed all those who swear by peace and love. Please, let us help you. Our Princess has defeated your Queen. Dean…?”

He opened a portal to Themyscira; it was also known as Paradise Island for a reason. Even the brief glimpse of the land proved that. The numerous Themysciran Amazons waiting also helped.

“Very well,” said the guard, clearly giving the stand down signal, “my name is Angela.”

The children were brought out and helped through the portal, into the arms of their new sisters and aunts.

Then the Themysciran Amazons took custody of the others.

Dean and his contingent of Themysciran Amazons returned to the forest to find Diana victorious and Hippolyta dead.

“She could not change her ways,” Diana mourned later, as they gave Hippolyta a Hunter’s Funeral, “too consumed by hatred and fear.”

“Not your fault, Miss Diana,” Dean assured her.

“Thank you, but I will still see her mourned as the Queen she could have been,” Diana shook her head sadly before gently clapping him on the shoulder.

He barely stumbled.

“Thank you for giving us warning,” Diana said, “if you ever think you’ve found more, please do not hesitate to call upon us again.”

“No problem.”

Chapter Text

The Coronation:

He was going to puke.

He was going to faint.

“Calm yourself, Daniel,” Clockwork urged.

He was so nervous there was no snarky reply.

He had run the courtyard track, a good mile, between the boundary stones symbolizing each Realm under his control, without his powers, an ancient ritual to show his health and vibrancy.

He had pleaded to the ancient, lost gods of Death for their approval and no omens against his reign had been found.

Amity Park had erected a cenotaph as he didn’t leave a body behind for a proper grave or urn of cremains and his parents, sister, and ‘lover’ had mourned him for the requisite amount of time, wearing clothes of mourning as they did so. Amity had mourned him, most of the populace wearing at least black armbands.

(This part of the rituals was repeated for Danielle, as Crown Princess, with her mother being very public in her mourning; it was required that Sam make a spectacle of herself, mourning a life cut short, a girl never becoming a woman. So she did. One could never say Sam couldn’t act, though part of it wasn’t quite theatrics).

There had been feasts in his name, made with all the bounty the Infinite Realms had to offer, a celebration and a mourning of his death and ascension.

He had confessed his sins and failings publicly, affirming that he was merely a ghost and not some god there to rule with an iron fist and cruelty.

He had spent four days in Pariah’s Keep, alone, and was not driven mad.

And now, it was the day, oh god it was the day.

The day Danny Phantom, young Danny Phantom became King Daniel Phantom, Subduer of the Tyrant King Pariah Dark, Uniter of the Realms, and numerous other epithets.

And he was scared shitless.

His family, still being alive, were barred from the ceremony; Danielle was to undergo a similar ceremony and was still being prepared.

A choir of spectral monks, fourteen strong, one for every year he had lived completely human, were chanting in something that sounded like Latin but was probably something much older that Danny just heard as Latin because his brain couldn’t comprehend what it truly was.

The monks surrounded him and escorted him, still chanting ominously, into the ruined Temple of the Kings. The ruins were so old literal torches had to light the way, flames flickering and animating the reliefs on the walls.

His new Court and the Nobles and Vassal Kings and Queens under his control lined the path, each averting their eyes as he walked past.

Then they came to the first chamber; here a literal sword in a stone waited, an ancient, rusty thing.

Danny became so anxious that he was calm as he stepped up to it; he pulled the sword from the stone and sheathed it at his hip where an empty scabbard had waited. He would fight for his people.

The next chamber held an ancient shield; a thing of fraying leather and iron fittings. Danny’s hands burned as he hefted it up. He would defend his people to his own detriment.

The next chamber, he nearly laughed; a map of the Realms. He gathered it and hung the scroll from his waistband. He would know the Realms as well as anyone could.

The final chamber was crowded; it held the ceremonial coronation throne. The throne was magnificent and awe-inspiring in the old sense of the word ‘awe’. It would dwarf him.

Still, he walked the cracked and broken stone aisle up to it, passing friend and foe, commoner and courtier alike, with his head held high.

The monks lined the walls as their chanting reached a crescendo; Fright Knight knelt, sword in his palms, at his approach.

Clockwork waited with the Crown; it was a thing of beauty, the Crown of Fire, of horrid beauty. Jagged crystals ecto-green set in silver. It would set itself alight once on the monarch’s head. What made it ugly was what it meant for him.

The Ring of Rage sat on a cushion nearby, glistening innocently in the torchlight.

He stepped to the throne and divested himself of the artifacts.

He knew nothing so he set down the map.

He was defenseless so he laid down the shield.

He was no warrior so he disarmed of the sword and scabbard.

He gave each artifact to a specially chosen ghost.

Then he spoke the Oath of the Monarch; he pledged himself to the Realms, to his people. He swore never to become a Tyrant like Pariah Dark. He swore his ectoplasmic line to the Crown, promising as many Heirs as he could father so the Realms would not fall into chaos if he was Ended.

He swore and swore and swore, binding himself and his children to the throne with each word.

Once he finished the Oath, Clockwork approached.

Danny bowed his head.

Clockwork placed the Crown.

It set itself aflame.

Clockwork picked up the Ring and slid it on Danny’s finger.

Danny sat on the throne.

One by one, the nobles and leaders in attendance gave their Oaths of Loyalty; it took hours.

Then, the Coronation was done and Danny was escorted from the Temple of the Kings and to his Palace.

He was shown to his chambers and finally left alone.

Finally.

He slumped down and cried.

He had wanted to be an astronaut.

Chapter Text

The Rant (or, Shut Up, Wes!)

Fenton was…twitchy.

Everyone could see that.

His friends were closer than usual.

Even Manson looked anxious as she held Fenton’s hand.

By some unspoken agreement, the student body left them alone…except for one.

Wes Weston, who had become unbearably smug since The Reveal, just had to start shit, “Yo, Phantom!”

Fenton’s head whipped up from his lunch so fast everyone in the suddenly silent cafeteria heard his neck crack.

“Wes, I’ve told you,” Fenton ground out the words, “in human form I’m Fenton. Fenton. Not Phantom. Danny Fenton. Back off today, okay? Today’s not the day for—”

“Whatever, Phantom,” Weston rolled his eyes, “where’s your clone?”

Strike two; everyone knew how protective the trio were of the girl—Danielle Fenton. Manson’s hackles were up now and even Foley looked like he could do some damage.

“Danielle’s with my grandmother,” Manson spoke calmly, “and please, don’t call her a clone. She’s her own person.”

“She’s still a clone,” Weston dug deeper, “the world’s first successful—”

Something like grief and fury and regret flashed over the trio’s faces.

“Wes, seriously, don’t finish that sentence,” Foley warned as Manson whispered to Fenton and smoothed a hand through his hair and down his back, “today is a bad day for this.”

“Why?”

Such a simple question; it broke Fenton.

“Enough!” Fenton slammed down his fist, denting the table, “Enough, Wes! Dani wasn’t even the first clone, okay? Just the surviving one! I’ve lost more kids—to Vlad’s sick Obsession with me and Mom—than anyone should lose! You wanna know what today is? Today is the day I found out I was fighting my disabled, sick sons! That Vlad was using them to save the so-called Perfect Clone! Who I saw melt before my eyes! My daughter, my little girl, nearly died too!”

Fenton stood up, stepping up over the table and towards Weston, “if that isn’t bad enough, my Court—because I’m a fucking King even though I’m still a kid and in school—is hounding me to have more kids! They’re saying that’s all Sam’s useful for, being alive and all! As a broodmare! They don’t care I’m, we’re too young to even have Danielle and don’t care for her anyways because she’s ‘just a cloned Neverborn bastard’. I would like to wait until college but I’m afraid—terrified really—that they’ll do something to force me and Sam into having a baby!”

“Wouldn’t that make the baby a—” someone questioned.

Fenton became eerily calm for long enough to say, “I could Decree them legit heirs—and no I can’t do that for Danielle for some reason…not yet anyways. They also really want me to—"

He focused back on Weston, “—marry some ghost princess or other and use Sam as a, guess what, broodmare because I can’t have kids the normal ghost way! I don’t even know if I can have kids! And, as if that isn’t enough to deal with, I’m trying to prevent wars in there because some ghosts don’t like me being King!”

“But I was ri—” Weston tried to speak.

“Dios Mio!” Sanchez broke in, rolling her eyes, “Nobody cares anymore, Wes! You were right, so what? Leave Danny alone. He’s obviously too busy to deal with you.”

“Yeah! Leave him alone, Weston!” Baxter agreed, standing up threateningly. His football buddies followed his lead.

One by one or in groups, the student body shouted down Weston.

Looking particularly hunted; Weston left.

Once the instigator was gone, everyone settled down; including the young King who seemed calmer after his tirade.

It was like nothing Edward Lancer had ever seen in the school.

Still, he sent the trio to the Counsellor.

He didn’t know he was starting a long and beloved tradition of Therapy in a very strange family.

Chapter Text

Halfa Healthcare:

“Hold still, Danny!” Maddie admonished as he squirmed.

She had thought this was over with when he turned four and could be trusted to hold his own toothbrush.

But then again, she had not foreseen her son becoming half-ghost because of her mistakes and his own.

And now he needed help making sure all his erupting secondary teeth were properly brushed as they were too tender for him to do it himself.

Frostbite had assured them it was normal for a ghost to have two or more sets of teeth, though they usually didn’t erupt all at once as a secondary set. Ghost teeth acted more like those of a shark; when one was lost another erupted to fill the space left.

Even the ghostly dentist, Doctor Juri, Frostbite had brought in was puzzled by how Danny’s teeth were behaving; in his human form he had one set of teeth, the normal human amount, some fillings but overall, in good shape.

They should have carried over into his ghost form and, at first, they had; then they started falling out while he was a ghost, behaving like baby teeth with new, sharper ones underneath as revealed by x-rays.

Juri had prescribed a potion to be used as toothpaste to help the new teeth form right.

Hopefully.

Apparently, the biology of half-ghosts was still a rather new subject of study; there had always been myths and legends about those who “Walked Both Worlds” but no concrete proof before Danny had appeared. Even Plasmius had been careful to present himself as just a ghost before his Obsession with Danny had truly taken hold of him.

Frostbite, his team, the Fentons, and whatever ghostly experts they got ahold of were really pioneering a whole new type of medical care with only one known patient willing to be helped.

Even Danielle, Danny’s clone, had yet to receive even the barest of examinations beyond whatever Vlad had done as she was currently travelling the world. Likely with an aversion to medical examinations anyways.

They were doing their best to track her and bring her home. And Danny was going to put her in front of his medical team when they did.

But, until then, only Danny was available for examination and they were really cobbling together his healthcare, taking what was known about ghostly health and what was known about human health and mixing the two haphazardly as issues popped up

It was, as stated, haphazard at best and frequently they were flying blind but it was the best they could do for him.

Which led to occurrences like Maddie brushing her teething teenager’s teeth as he squirmed.

Chapter Text

Five Hundred and Twenty-Five:

525.

That was Danielle’s experiment number.

She was the 525th attempt.

524 other clones, most of which didn’t make it past the embryo stage.

525 sons and daughters.

Danny stared at the number, unseeing.

Only some of them had used Sam’s DNA.

Most were purely Danny; those tended to fail at the highest rate, his DNA too damaged and unstable by the Portal Accident to support life at any stage. Even the Perfect Clone—attempt 524, though 525—Danielle—was born earlier, had had a little Sam in him.

Danny started crying.

Vlad had experimented, a lot, with the clones in his quest for the Perfect Clone.

There were other ‘mothers’, random names and numbers that Danny couldn’t make sense of, random and short descriptions of their appearances and ages; Vlad must have robbed clinics for DNA samples.

Most of the ‘mothers’ were like Sam, alike enough to Danny in appearance that any variation could be overlooked. Blue eyes, black hair, light skinned preferred of course but other options had been used.

Vlad had rushed most of the work with most of the clones, or so Maddie had explained gently to her grieving son and his also grieving girlfriend.

Sam was staring blankly at a wall, near catatonic; 525. At least a hundred and fifty of which also belonged to her. 150 children created by a maniac; 150 of her children dead.

Only a handful of the clones were deemed worthy enough for careful construction; these clones tended to have the most Danny DNA in them with tiny percentages of other DNA. But even those clones came out deformed or just lacking either a human form or a ghost form. This category included the deformed clones that Danny had fought, not knowing they were his own sons.

Danielle was the only 50-50 clone; which might explain why she survived so long without a stabilizing agent. But even she was unstable without the agent.

And of course, she wasn’t so much of a clone as a test tube baby; Vlad only saved her to use, to manipulate, to further his own ends. Because she was merely a failed project in his eyes, having made the grievous error of being born a girl and looking a little too much like her secondary DNA source while in human form.

Oh, her Fenton blood was clear enough to pass her off as any sort of female relation but her Manson blood made it impossible for her to pass as Danny’s clone. They were identical, until one looked closer. Perhaps, had she been born male, the differences would have been minimal enough for Vlad to bear.

But her ‘deformity’ in his eyes made her another waste of resources. She would have lived longer than her brothers and sisters, most of which were terminated for being the wrong sex or merely failed to develop past the embryo stage for whatever reason, but she would have died under Vlad’s care too.

Vlad had inadvertently saved her life.

Still.

524 dead clones.

524 dead children.

Sam started crying, finally coming back to herself, and began making calls.

Within a week, a Memorial was held, and a Cenotaph raised in the Amity Park Cemetery.

To the clones who didn’t make it.

All 524 of them.

Chapter Text

Unexpected Talents:

The zoo was bustling, crowds barely parting for the triple wide stroller.

(Harry and Neville were barely toddling and Damian tired easily).

Danielle, Dawn, and Adrien stayed close and the little family made their way through the exhibits; it was one of the rules for the day, that they stayed as a group.

It didn’t save them trouble; it was the Reptile House where it happened.

Sam was holding Harry up to the boa window, talking to him lowly about the snake when Harry started hissing.

Even to Sam’s human ears it sounded like mostly nonsense baby-babble but the snake was obviously intrigued. It slithered closer, rising and hissing back.

“Danny.” She called her boyfriend calmly, as calmly as she could because none of this made sense.

Harry should not have been a Parselmouth; he didn’t have the Horcrux in his head.

Danny hurried over and paled; he coughed lightly and rushed his family from the scene.

“How is that possible?” he would later demand of the Potters.

James raised a hand, admitting, “We—the Potters—Mum’s side anyways—we come from India—”

Which rather handily explained James’ and Harry’s darker skin.

“In India it’s not…it’s a good thing to be a Parselmouth,” James continued helplessly, “many of my cousins are…but here, in Britain…Scotland…”

“Slytherin messed it all up for Parselmouths,” Sam realized.

“It’s seen as a Dark talent,” James agreed before hissing sibilantly, then switching back to English just as smoothly, “Dad made us hide the talent…for our own safety.”

“Okay,” Danny nodded, relieved, “okay, so he inherited it; that’s good. In the books…well, nevermind.”

The Potters nodded back, not prying into what ‘the books’ said about Parseltongue. Voldemort was a known Parselmouth so they could guess some.

Euphemia and James hadn’t truly been banned from speaking Parseltongue, per say; but they had kept the talent hidden from everyone but the closest of friends.

Lily and the Marauders knew and now so did Frank and Alice, who didn’t look nearly as horrified as they could have.

James didn’t know whether to be overjoyed or horrified that Harry had inherited it.

Chapter Text

Paige Meets Patty:

Patty put her fist to her mouth even as she spoke, voice trembling, “Paige?”

“Yeah,” Paige swallowed dryly as the spirit crossed the Circle’s boundaries and became solid, “Yeah, I’m…I came back.”

Patty—Patricia Halliwell—gazed upon her lost daughter; the daughter she had Sold to save.

Tears were running down her cheeks.

“No, don’t cry,” Paige said, voice cracking, “please, I’m okay. I’m…you saved me. I love my life—”

The two women embraced, both crying, before Patty drew back to look at her daughter; she was clearly healthy but, “Were you…Do they love you?”

Paige nodded, a shaky grin on her face, “My family adores me, Patty. I’m happily adopted. I have a lot of family. Brothers, sisters, aunts, and uncles. Cousins, lots of cousins. Even grandparents.”

“I’m glad,” Patty choked out, still crying but smiling lovingly, “I…I’m so glad, Paige. The Queen, she did promise to love you like her own but I had wondered…”

“Mom and Dad love me,” Paige confirmed, “all of me. Even the witchy parts. They sent me to a magical school. My brothers also went there, before me. They had tutors and advisors helping with the magical parts.”

“I’m glad,” Patty repeated, “Oh, Paige, I’m so sorry I couldn’t raise you with my other girls—”

“It’s okay,” Paige assured, “I don’t blame you. Mom told me what you and—Sam was his name?—Sam said about me being illegal here. Grandfather Clockwork says if you didn’t give me to Mom I would’ve been adopted by non-magicals and orphaned at fifteen. Car accident, he said; I would’ve Orbed out. Only piece of magic I would’ve done before Piper and Phoebe found me. But, because you Sold me, I was never left alone. My family…we might be…varied but they love me and I love them.”

“Varied, huh?” Patty giggled wetly.

“One of the women I call Aunt is a Vampire Slayer; her Mate, and my uncle, is a notorious Vampire, their daughter is the Mutant Messiah.” Paige laughed, “Another aunt is a vessel for a goddess of Time. Three of my brothers are wizards—male witches. One of my brothers is half inuyoukai, Japanese dog spirit. My eldest sister is a binary clone of Dad and Mom. Another brother is a cat themed superhero. We have demons, ghosts, aliens, magicals, Liminals, normal humans, a little of everything. I’m the youngest, Patty, so I was babysat by a lot of them.”

Patty’s jaw had dropped, “Demons…vampires…and you’re safe?”

“Oh, yeah. Uncle Spike turned a new leaf years before I was even born; Aunt Anya, she was a Vengeance demon for a thousand years. Her best friend works with kids, giving them vengeance on abusers and the like. And youkai are more like fae than actual biblical demons. Some are good, some are bad. ‘Yasha, my brother, was just a kid when you gave me to Mom. He has a youkai son too, a fox youkai. Kitsune.”

Paige grinned, almost baring her teeth, “My family takes everyone who comes and can coexist peacefully. Uncle Spike lives off pigs’ blood and occasional sips from Aunt Buffy. He only drinks donated human blood when he gets really hurt.”

“I Saw it, Mom,” Phoebe spoke up, “she’s…they’re a family. No matter what they are, where they come from.”

“And Mom and Dad will welcome the Halliwells right in; even Cole,” Paige nodded, “probably be good for ‘Yasha to meet another half-demon, even if they’re different species.”

Paige led Patty to the Book of Shadows and showed her the picture she had glued in under the entry for the Ghost King, “This’s just the immediate family. You met Mom, the Ghost Queen, this’s Dad, the King—Oh, budge up!”

The picture began moving, the persons in it shuffling to the sides or stepping forward.

“Magical picture,” Paige hummed as her sisters and Patty goggled, “this’s my sister Danielle—”

Person after person, family member after family member not quite human or non-powered.

Each with their own story that Paige recited by heart.

And Patty could only listen in awe and gratitude.