Chapter Text

"The air is different here," Wes said, looking up at the swath of stars across the sky. Kyle exhaled a plume of smoke clouding the view. 

"Shit. Don't get all poetic on me now." Kyle coughed his way into a laugh and Wes kicked his shin. "Ow!" 

"Shut up dude, I mean it's colder here. More humid or something too." 

"Yeah, definitely nothing like home." Kyle swung his legs back and forth off the brow of the roof. "How was your first day of school btdubs?" He offered Wes the joint pinched between his fingers. 

Wes waved him off. "Thrilling, nothin' like being the new kid," he said.  

Kyle shrugged and took another hit. “‘S not so bad, my day was chill,” he croaked out while trying to keep his breath held in. 

Wes scrunched his nose at the smell. “Jesus dude, that stuff smells worse than normal.” 

“Yeah—” he puffed out the cloud of smoke “—the shit here isn’t as good. Missin’ that green triangle right about now,” Kyle sighed. Wes almost wanted to ask how he’d found a dealer already, but it was Kyle. He always found someone. It was like his supernatural ability to sniff out someone who’d sell to minors.

 “Anyway, basketball tryouts are at the end of the week, right? Cheer up my man, you’ll get mad chicks once you make the team,” Kyle said. Wes shot him a glare. Getting chicks was the last thing on his mind. He was more preoccupied with the fact their dad uprooted their entire lives to move to fucking Illinois. Illinois!

“Whatever dude.” There was a brief silence before Kyle bumped his shoulder into him. Kyle took another deep drag off his joint, the static burn filling the air like white noise. The stars continued to glimmer coldly in the sky, and it sent a pang of homesickness through him. It was bullshit. 

“Any classes you like?” 

“Psh. Hardly… Well. There’s a photography class—” 

“Didn’t you mention something about chem at lunch?” 

“Oh. That.” Wes started to get angry just thinking about it. “Yeah. Chemistry two. Apparently we have to have a lab partner for the whole semester. Which wouldn't be a big deal but I got stuck paired with a dude that’s ‘banned for life’ from using the chem equipment. So I’m probably gonna have to do everything.”

Kyle took a breath like he was about to say something, but Wes pressed on. “What the hell do you even have to do to get banned for life from using the chemistry stuff?” 

“Dude! Maybe your partner got busted for making drugs! That Breaking Bad kinda shit! That’d get him banned fer sure fer sure.” His words slurred around the edges.

Wes almost laughed. “You’re high Kyle. If you saw him you’d understand. This guy isn’t a drug lord, trust me, he’s a twig. No way he’d be involved in anything dangerous. If that guy does anything more exciting than video games I’d eat your hat.” 

Kyle gasped. “Brooo!” 

“What?”

“Somthin’ to eat sounds wicked. Wanna swing by that... Nasty place, what’zit called? We saw it on the way in.” 

Wes rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. 

“Nasty Burger?”

“Nasty Burger!”

“As a majority of you are aware, it’s a new school year, which means as per new school district regulation it’s time to report to the gym for the annual ghost safety course, and later today at an unspecified time there will be a ghost drill.” Mr. Lancer droned at the front of the class. The other students around Wes all groaned like they’d been assigned a pop quiz, rather than that being the most batshit crazy thing they’d ever heard. Uh, what the hell? He raised his hand. 

“Yes, Mr. Weston.” 

“Did... you just say ghost safety course?” Kids around him chuckled and shared knowing looks. It was like he was on the other side of an inside joke.   

“Regrettably so, Mr. Weston. Everyone single file to the gym please. Leave your bags here, you’ll be back before the third period,” Lancer said as he gestured to the door. Wes stayed sitting for a few seconds longer than the class, trying to make sense of what he’d just heard. Ghosts? Like actual ghosts? 

“Hey, Fenturd, can’t wait to see how your parents fuck it up this year!” Wes turned towards the back of the classroom to see a tall broad shouldered guy, Dash if he remembered right, shoving past Danny Fenton, AKA his chem lab partner. Danny lurched to the side, stumbling into a desk. There were two other kids that Wes hadn’t seen before standing behind Danny, a goth girl and a dweeby kid in a beret.

“Bro, I still have the picture on my phone from when they couldn’t get Mr. Fenton out of that ghost netting,” said an equally massive asian guy. The small knot of kids around them all laughed and filed past Danny and his presumed friends. Danny was glaring daggers at the back of Dash’s head. 

So… Danny’s parents were the guest speakers, and they were giving a talk on... ghost safety… Seriously, did anything here make sense? Wes followed after the crowd, trying to wrap his head around it. The odd trio started following a few paces back.

“Great. Just what I need to kick off the year again,” Wes heard Danny grumble. 

“Oh come on Danny, It wasn’t that bad,” the goth girl said. 

“Nah, it was pretty bad.” 

“Tucker!” 

“What?!”  

Wes tried to continue listening to their conversation but the person in front of him turned around to look at him. 

“You’re the new kid right?” She asked. She had long blonde hair and perfect makeup. 

“Uh, yeah. Wes.” 

“I hear you’re trying out for the basketball team, right?” A few of the popular kids walking in front of her glanced over their shoulders to look at Wes.

“Y-yeah. I was point guard on my last team back home.” 

“I don’t know what that means.” She tossed a lock of hair behind her shoulder. Her eyes were burning into him like she was personally judging where he fit into the social caste system of the school. “But good luck. I’m Star, by the way. My boyfriend’s on the football team so don’t get any ideas.”  

“Oh please Star, you’re like, totally out of his league, basketball team or not,” a new voice cut in from just in front of Star. Another girl with dark wavy hair turned to look at him. She had dark olive skin, almond eyes and thick eyelashes. “I’m Paulina, but I’m sure you’ve heard all about me already. People are kind of obsessed with me, they can’t help it.” She said it with a smile and a cute giggle to punctuate her sentences. He’d seen her in homeroom yesterday, and he knew right off the bat she was top of the hierarchy, her and Dash both seemed to have a pretty solid hold on their popularity. If he was going to survive here he needed to make sure they liked him, or at the very least had nothing bad to say about him. 

“I can see why, it’s nice to meet you,” he said. The two girls shared a look, shrugged and turned their attention away from him. 

He let go of the breath he’d been holding, feeling like he’d just passed some sort of test.  In elementary school he was small and easy to pick on. Unless Kyle was around, who had a nonchalant courage about him, even as a kid. It’d taken a lot of work for Wes to figure out how to fit in just under the radar of the big fish. 

He stepped into the bustling gym along with the rest of the Junior homeroom class. The bleachers were pulled out, and the class dispersed to find their places to sit. Wes bobbed his head over the shoulders of other students looking for Kyle. It took some work but eventually his eyes landed on his brother. He was lounging, taking up two seats worth of space on the far left side of the bleachers. Wes made a beeline for him, taking the stairs two at a time. The clamour of the student body filled the room, and when he sat down he had to speak over it. 

“Dude, can you believe this? A ghost assembly?” His brother had never been the most believing of the supernatural. But this place, openly acknowledging the presence of ghosts? He’d like to see Kyle try and refuse to believe now. 

“Yeah man! This school must really love halloween,” Kyle said.

And there it was. 

“Kyle. It’s September.” 

“And? Bro they got the halloween decorations up at wally-world already, why not have a fun halloween thing?” Wes frowned, and clicked his tongue. He propped his chin against his hand and watched as the school started to settle. His eyes wandered the rows until he found the goth girl. Danny and the kid she’d called Tucker were with her. They were sitting in the section over a row down. Danny had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black NASA hoodie, and a pinched look on his face. He couldn’t exactly say he blamed the kid, the thought of his own dad showing up to give a presentation made him shiver in horror. 

They’d set up a stage in the center of the gym. Principal Ishiyama stepped up to the podium, and tapped the mic. 

“Hello students of Casper High! For incoming freshmen, allow me to officially extend a warm welcome, and to all returning students, welcome back!” She was way too chipper for the time of morning. “As many of you know we have to review some safety precautions. Now, this may not be new information but I expect you all to pay attention and be respectful regardless. With that, allow me to introduce local ghost experts: Jack and Maddie Fenton.” Ishiyama moved back, clapping for the guests. The crowd gave mixed reactions. Most people looked like they were only applauding out of awkwardness. Wes was definitely included in that category. 

A man and woman with brightly colored… jumpsuits? Hazmat suits? Whatever they were, came forward. The man was intimidating from the pure size of him alone. Jesus christ, he looked like a NFL linebacker. Next to him, was a slight and fit woman. She spoke first, standing at the podium. 

“Good morning everyone! My husband and I are honored to be welcomed back to run through the safety course with you kids!” Mrs. Fenton was peppy and direct with the way she spoke and the way she moved. “As of last year the manual ghost alarms were installed around the school.” She motioned to the projector screen behind her that had been lowered from the ceiling. “As you can see here.” The picture on the projector showed huge red buttons ringed by yellow and black caution trim. Wes had seen them around before, but he’d figured they were for... tornados or something, they had those here, right? “If you see a ghost you are encouraged to press this button so that the school can evacuate and the correct professionals may be notified.” 

“By that she means us!” Mr. Fenton shouted, popping up in front of the projector. She moved on as if the interruption hadn’t even happened. 

“Whatever you do, do not engage with a ghost. Ghosts are highly dangerous. Even a low level ecto-entity can be a threat to your life and well-being!” Her voice was grave, and practically oozed with conviction. Wes looked over at Kyle, gesturing towards the stage, incredulous. 

“Really? Nothing to say about this?”

“What can I say, they’re pretty dedicated. Dude, Wes, it might be an ARPG, like remember the Halo 2 ‘I love bees' thing?”

“I hate you. This isn’t even close to—” 

“Shh!” Someone who sounded like a teacher hissed at them. He turned his attention back to the presentation, annoyed. 

“Now, let’s go over what to do if you think you’ve been possessed or otherwise overshadowed by a ghost! First thing to look for are gaps in memory or consciousness. Changes in mood or violent tendencies can also occur. Keep an eye on your friends and loved ones. Remember that no one is immune to being overshadowed by a ghost, unless you purchase a Fenton Specter Deflector available on our website!” Almost out of nowhere, the woman pulled out what looked like a metal belt. There was silence in response, and she cleared her throat. 

“If you or someone you know has been or is currently possessed please seek help immediately, go to your teachers or parents.” Wes watched as she moved on to the next subject, talking with the fervor and simplicity of an expert. Screw whatever Kyle said, this wasn’t just for shits and giggles or some halloween event. Something was different here. The other students, despite seeming bored, looked like they fully believed her. Maybe people here would actually believe him about what happened when he was a kid. 

The hazy memories crept along his skin, making the hair on his arms stand on end. His dad told him he had an active imagination. He knew it wasn’t that.

“Finally, let’s go over what to do if a ghost fight breaks out!” 

“A ghost fight?” he echoed, brows furrowing. 

“As we’ve said, do not engage or interact with ghosts for any reason—”

“Hey, what about Phantom?” Someone from the crowd shouted. A murmur of agreement rippled through the students. 

“Who’s Phantom?” He wondered out loud, and the guy sitting in front of him turned around to give him an affronted look. 

“We strongly discourage interacting with Phantom especially! When it comes to ghosts, it’s simple. There are no good ghosts! Ghosts are ectoplasmic post-human impressions driven only by their obsession! They are not human and don’t care about the havoc they wreak.”  

The crowd murmured again, the disapproval evident. A few kids shouted unintelligible things, but they sounded defensive. Wes didn’t get it, the Fenton lady seemed to know her shit, why argue? 

“Quiet! Quiet please!” Ishyama called over the voices. Eventually the students settled, and the Fentons wrapped up their presentation. Everyone seemed disappointed that nothing embarrassing happened, until Mr. Fenton underestimated the height of the stage, and face planted onto the gym floor. The students broke into an uproar of laughter, and Ishiyama rushed to the mic to dismiss everyone back to homeroom. Wes couldn’t hold back a laugh, and glanced over to see Danny hunching up his shoulders. If Wes had to describe someone that looked like they wanted to disappear, it would be Danny in that moment. 

The walk back to the classroom was uneventful, though he was pretty sure he heard Mrs. Fenton repeatedly calling out “Danny sweetie!” Wes was really glad he wasn’t that poor bastard, talk about humiliating. He tried to ignore the pang that twisted inside his stomach. Still, it must be nice to have a mom around. 

Fifth period started in four minutes, and Wes was stuck fiddling with the lock on his locker. The damn thing looked like it’d been fished off the Titanic. The wheel made an awful squealing noise when he twisted it, and even when the lock popped, he had to yank on it to get it to unlatch all the way. He put in his combo for the third time and pulled. It came undone and if it weren’t for the holes in the handle he’d have gone stumbling backwards. He opened the locker and was just about to grab his History textbook, when an ear splitting alarm blasted from the overhead speakers. He jumped and spun around, hands coming up to cover his ears. 

It wasn’t like a fire alarm, instead of the shrill school bell ringing, it was a long whooping siren that echoed up and down the halls like a nuclear strike was incoming. Wes had to hand it to them, it sounded creepy as fuck. The emergency lights flashed in the hallways, and the kids around him started to make for the exits.  

“Your attention please,” an automated female voice came over the speaker, offering  a brief respite from the siren. “A ghost has been sighted in the building. Please evacuate or get to safety as soon as possible.” Holy shit, was this really happening? The siren began its wailing again. His heart thundered in his chest, and he looked both ways up and down the hall. He didn’t see anything, except for Lancer standing at the end of the hall, directing students to an emergency exit. Wes remembered then that Lancer had said something about a “ghost drill”. Of course that’s what this was. A drill. Wes let out a shaky breath, and went to close up his locker before he headed out. 

Which in retrospect wasn’t the greatest idea. In less than a second, something changed. The hall felt darker, and the air grew cold. Not cold like someone left the window open, cold like he’d just walked into a meat freezer. It prickled against his skin, and he felt a deep sense of dread sink to the bottom of his stomach. 

“Little lamb…” Murmured a soft voice. It echoed up the hall, and Wes forced himself to turn and look. He shouldn’t have, he really shouldn’t have. It was the shape of a woman, but she was floating a foot off the ground. She had stringy hair, and bangs that partially covered her empty eyes. In her hand looked like a shepherd's crook. Wes slammed his back against his locker, his knees locking up. He felt his hands start to tremble. Not again, he didn’t want the nightmares again.

The hall was empty, the last few terrified kids were gone. 

“Little lamb... separated from the herd… Don’t you know there’s predators?” Her voice echoed unnaturally, it’s clarity sending chills across his skin. She was hardly speaking above a whisper, but it was rough and cracked, like something had happened to her voice. The worst thing was even at barely a whisper, he could hear her over the sirens. It was like she was right next to him breathing the words into his ear. 

The alarm cut out and the automated message looped. The woman—ghost lifted her crook to point at him. “Little lambs have to come back home,” she said. The sound of panting and low growling filled the hall. A green shape, low and lean flew out from behind her. It closed the gap between them in three strides flat. It’s eyes glowed red, and white teeth slavered toxic green. Wes’ voice stuck in his throat and he couldn’t scream, he squeezed his eyes shut and hoped he’d wake up.

Wes felt the air stir in front of him, and he heard a meaty crunch followed by a deafening caterwaul. His eyes flashed open to see the mountain lion-like creature picking itself up off the ground on the other side of the hall. Directly in front of him was another human shape, another ghost. They had white hair and a black jumpsuit on. 

“Bad kitty! What, did someone forget the catnip?” It was a guy’s voice that echoed around the hall. The shape cast a glance over his shoulder at Wes. He gulped down a breath, it was a boy about his age. His eyes glowed the same neon toxic green that painted the hall in its supernatural light. He looked like he was about to say something else when the big cat hurled itself at his flank. Its massive front paws slammed into his midsection and they disappeared into the wall. 

The shepherd moved towards him and Wes felt like he was going to pass out or throw up. Maybe both, both sounded okay. She was focused entirely on him as she drifted over the floor. She was four feet away, and the expression etched onto her dead face made his stomach twist. This was worse, this was way worse than the nightmares. Her empty eyes leaked tears. 

“It’s dangerous. There’s predators.” She lifted a hand like she was trying to reach for him. A blast of green light suddenly filled his vision, and the girl let out a scream. She was slammed backwards into a set of lockers and she slipped down to the ground. Wes’ gaze snapped to where the blast of energy had come from and saw the ghost boy. He was floating six feet off the ground, and his right hand was glowing green. He had a long deep slash across his side that was oozing and dripping globby green ectoplasm. 

“I’ve never seen you before,” he said. “What do you want?” his tone was firm and sharp, it felt like ice. The girl looked up at the boy. She opened her mouth and screamed. It was a raw terrible thing that petered off into an agonized gurgle. The ghost boy arched a brow, but before he could say anything else the Shepherd melted into the wall. 

“Shit,” the ghost puffed. He turned his eyes to Wes and he stiffened again. Right, he wasn’t exactly out of the woods yet. “You must be new here. Piece of advice, run away next time, okay dude?” The ghost boy looked up at the ceiling that still had the alarms blaring and rolled his eyes. In the next instant he shot through the wall where the shepherd ghost had disappeared. 

Wes let out a breath and sunk to the floor, shivering from head to toe. What the hell was that?            

Chapter Text

Danny flew through every room in the school, even the basement, but the unidentified ghost was gone. He pushed a gloved hand through his hair and swore under his breath. Just his damn luck. At least he’d caught the mountain lion ghost in the thermos. At first glance he’d thought it was Bertrand and Spectra, but that theory had been dashed. The big cat had got him good but it didn’t seem to have any intelligence beyond a wild animal. 

He’d looked long enough that the ghost alarm had been turned off and people started heading back into the building. It was also long enough that his wound had melded together, and the stains on his gloves were the only evidence he’d sustained an injury in the first place. That too would be gone the next time we went ghost. 

He slipped through the wall of the bathroom and dropped down into a stall to transform back. He poked his head out through the door of the bathroom to make sure no one was paying attention. Everyone was too busy trying to figure who’d seen the ghost to care. It was normal for people to hide in the bathrooms during an attack anyway. Right. First things first, he had to put the thermos back in his locker. Classes would resume in a few minutes. 

Sam and Tucker were waiting at his locker when he got there. They perked up when they saw him. 

“Who was it this time?” Sam asked. 

“I don’t know, it was a new ghost,” he said, trying to seem less troubled than he was.

“Ghost Gage readings put it at a level six,” Tucker reported, turning his phone around to show Danny the readout graph that did in fact place its power level around a six.

“What was the reading on the other one?” 

“Let’s see…” Tuck fiddled with his phone for a second before finding it. “Four and a half? A five at first.” 

“A new ghost, huh? That hasn’t happened in awhile,” Sam pointed out. 

“Tell me about it,” Danny unlocked his locker and set the thermos on the top shelf, safe until after school when he could flush the ghost back into the Ghost Zone. “She didn’t seem to know who I was, which is a good thing I guess.” 

“Well, hopefully they won’t come back after you send ‘em back into the Ghost Zone.”

“Yeah…” He rubbed at the back of his neck as he closed his locker. “About that. I sorta only caught one. The level six hightailed it before I could get her pinned down.” Danny started to walk towards his next class. 

“So what’s her deal?” Sam fell into step on his left, and Tucker on his right. 

“I don’t know, I didn’t get much from her. She had one of those stick things that sheep farmers have though.” 

“A shepherd's crook?” Sam supplied.

“Yeah, that. She didn’t say anything to me either, just... screamed.” It wasn’t that odd that a ghost wasn’t very talkative, but something about her was rubbing Danny the wrong way. 

“Creepy,” Tucker said. “I’ll start a file on the ‘Shepherd’ then.” He tapped on his phone as they walked, not even bothering to watch where he was going. Danny reached out and grabbed Tucker’s elbow to phase him through a trash can just before he toppled into it. “Wait, was the scream anything like your wail?”

Danny shook his head. “No, that’s the thing guys, she didn’t directly attack me. Just her lackee mountain lion.”  

“Huh. Well, with any luck, the next encounter will get us some more solid data. Cause right now we’re lookin’ pretty sorry. She wasn’t around long enough to get a read on her core type either.” Tucker's face was wrinkled in concentration. 

“We’ll take what we can get, thanks Tuck.”

“I should really start charging you for my services. You know how much work all this is?” He waved his phone at them.

Danny laughed. “You wanna do my job instead?” Tucker was quiet for a second. 

“Yeah, not a chance.” 

“You sure? I could go find Desiree for old times sake,” Danny suggested with a shit eating grin. Tucker narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Dude. Low blow.” His tone was good humored and easy. One of the perks of being friends so long. They shared a smile and Tucker punched his shoulder. “Alright, I got History, see you guys,” he gave them a two finger salute and peeled off. 

“Did you do the algebra homework for today?” Sam asked as Tucker left. Danny felt his breath seize in his throat.

“There was algebra homework already?” He squawked. 

“Relax, I’m kidding,” she laughed.

He put a hand over his heart and let out a huge breath. “Sam, don’t do that! Gave me a heart attack, are you trying to kill me again?” 

After algebra Danny had chemistry. He said goodbye to Sam in the hall and headed to the science lab. When Danny got to class Wesley was already there. He was sitting at their table staring a hole into the white board at the front of the room. 

Danny thought back to the last time he’d seen him, cornered against a locker and eyes filled with terror. He dropped his textbook on the table and Wes jumped so violently Danny was surprised he stayed on his stool. His expression morphed from fear to annoyance as he looked at Danny. 

“What’s wrong, man? You look like you saw a ghost,” Danny said. A part of him almost felt bad for going for such an obvious jab, but Wes had made it clear on day one that he didn’t like him. So why be nice? Danny used his foot to drag his stool out and he slumped onto his seat. 

“Ha ha,” Wes replied, voice brittle. He resumed his staring contest with the whiteboard. Danny shrugged, unbothered. Kids came in and took their seats in small groups. Valerie was in this class too, and came in two minutes to the bell. The two still had an unspoken truce that translated into mutual respect. It was pretty close to a friendship. At least when he was Fenton. She came up to stand next to his desk, books tucked in the crook of her arm.

“Hey, Danny. Did you see the ghost today?” From the corner of his eye he saw Wes glance towards them. Val seemed to notice the attention too. “Just curious, from what I can tell not many saw this one. Which is weird for us.” In his last class all the students had been buzzing about the ghost attack, it was the first one of the new school year after all. Everyone had been speculating on which ghost it was and whether Phantom had shown up. 

Danny shook his head. “Sorry, Val. I was on the other end of the building and evacuated with everyone.” 

“Hmm. Okay, thanks.” Danny could see the gears turning in her head, probably frustrated she didn’t get her hands on it or him, but she didn’t say anything else, and went to sit down at her table. Danny could feel Wesley’s eyes on him, and he sighed, turning on his stool to look at him. He was probably going to regret this.

“Lemme guess, you have questions.” Wesley looked reluctant but no less pissed. 

“Everyone just… Accepts that ghosts are a thing here?” He said it in a low voice, like he was afraid of being overheard by someone. 

“Uh. Yeah? Pretty much. Most people anyway. It’s been like this for like two years so… Yeah, people are kinda used to it by now.” 

Wes looked confused and conflicted. He was silent for a beat, before he asked his next question. “What can you tell me about this Phantom guy?” If Danny had been drinking something he probably would have choked on it. 

“Uh. I don’t know, what do you want to know?” 

“Who is he? Why is he here? What’s so special about him?” 

Danny blinked at the barrage of questions and struggled to find words. “Well, he’s—” the last bell rang and Mrs. Merriweather stood up from her desk. Danny almost sighed with relief. She pushed her rounded glasses up, and soothed down her pencil skirt.

“Alright kids, find your seats and settle down. We’re going to review lab safety today, and tomorrow we’ll be starting our first lab. Also the scheduled ghost drill will still be taking place, and because I detest the regulations I’m going to go ahead and tell you it'll be around 2:15 during this class.” She walked across the classroom and flicked off the lights. The projector hummed from its place hanging from the ceiling and Mrs. Merriweather wasted no time hopping to her powerpoint presentation on proper lab etiquette. Danny took the opportunity to shoot a text to Sam and Tucker about the ghost drill. At least this way they didn’t need to be on high alert. Besides, Danny had practically grown up in a lab, he knew this stuff backwards and forwards.

Wes glanced sideways at him, but said nothing. Danny shoved his phone back in his pocket and slouched forward onto the table. He stifled a yawn and struggled to keep his eyes open. A nap sounded fantastic at the moment, he’d been up half the night trying to talk Kitty through her recent fight with Johnny. Jazz said he should try and be helpful and build trust so they were less likely to take out their lovers' quarrels on him. Not having to get smacked around was all well and good but he wasn’t a ghost therapist. That was way more Jazz’s wheelhouse. He’d never say it out loud, because he’d never hear the end of it, but he missed her.

“Mr. Fenton.” Mrs. Merriweather had her hands on her hips. Crap.

“Yeah?” 

“What did I just go over?” 

“Uh… eye protection?” 

She sighed. “Danny, what part of this seems unimportant?” 

“None of it! Er, I mean, all of it? It is important, but I mean it’s not like I can even use any of this stuff anyways so…”

Mrs. Merriweather pinched the bridge of her nose. “And why do you think that is?”

Annoyance squirmed in his stomach. “Not because I don’t know anything about lab safety. I know how to be safe in a lab, it’s not rocket science.” 

“Well, since you know everything there is to know, then you’ll be happy to hear that I’ve just decided to give the class a quiz tomorrow on this powerpoint.” There was a satisfied twinkle in her eyes, and Danny swore she loved to torture kids, and being a teacher was the only legal way she could do it. The class broke out into groans. 

“Nice going, Fenton!” Someone spat from behind him. He wanted to phase through the floor and just go home. 

“Pay attention or get detention everyone!” Mrs. Merriweather warned them. It was her favorite thing to say. She turned back to the slide show and continued her spiel. 

The ghost drill was nothing unusual. Despite knowing it was coming, most of the class still jumped when the alarm started, Danny and Wes included. They all evacuated the building and stood outside in the school yard the exact same way they would a fire drill. It was a waste of time, especially since they’d already had a ghost attack today. 

Thankfully, Wes had slipped off to stand with a guy that looked like his older brother, if the resemblance meant anything. Wes probably didn’t want to be seen talking to him if there was any other option. Danny had to hand it to him, he caught on fast. What that also meant was he didn’t have to try and fumble his way through an entire conversation answering questions about Phantom. Danny just hoped Wes ended up asking someone who had a more progressive opinion on him, someone like Paulina, or hell, even Dash. 

Danny spent the last of the drill hanging with Sam and Tucker. The obnoxious sirens had shut off at least. Danny hated those things, his parents had recommended and got approval for the installation at the start of school last year , along with a state of the art ghost detection gadget . After the third “false alarm”, courtesy of him, they got rid of the ghost detection in favor of the manual alarm buttons. That had been a rough week. Danny hadn’t known a peaceful ghost fight at Casper since. 

Eventually the drill was over, and the teachers started ushering kids back into school for the last period.    

“So, what’s going on after school?” Sam asked as they were funneled into the entrance.  

“I’ll probably swing by my house to drop my stuff off, then I’m gonna look around town, see if I can’t find that new ghost hanging around anywhere.”

“Pizza at my place after?” 

“Aw hell yeah, Sam! Wings too?” 

Sam rolled her eyes. “Yeah sure, Tucker, you can order wings. Just keep them away from me, will ya?” 

Danny snorted. “Sounds like a plan, I’ll text when I’m on my way.”

“Or if you need help with that ghost?” she added sternly. 

“Yeah yeah, fine . That too.” He waved a hand dismissively at her. 

Tucker and Sam walked home with him like they normally did, exchanging goodbyes and “see you later”’s at his front steps. They continued down the street as Danny pushed into his house. He took a deep breath, relaxing into the familiar smells of home. It was weird, not seeing Jazz on the couch with twelve open textbooks taking up all the space on the coffee table. He headed for the kitchen, his empty stomach not willing to wait for pizza later. He dropped his bag by the banister so he could pick it back up on his way to his room later. 

When he walked into the kitchen, his mom looked up and brightened. She had a bunch of papers all laying out on the dining table, some in piles and some splayed out in an order that probably made sense to her at least. She didn’t have her goggles on, instead she had them pushed back like a headband.

“Hi, sweetie! I didn’t even hear you come in. How was your day at school?” 

 “Fine,” he said with a noncommittal shrug. Danny walked past the table to the fridge. As he passed he noticed that the papers were readouts and raw data sheets. Some looked like her own notes which featured the words “ghosts”, “core”, “ecto-signature” and the like about a dozen times. It wasn’t exactly abnormal for his parents, but it did peak his interest.  

He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a can of strawberry soda and an apple, enjoying the feeling of the cool air on his face. He nudged the fridge door closed with his foot and turned towards his mom. 

“So,” he took a bite of his apple, “what’re you workin’ on?” Normally his parents kept all the research down in the lab, unless of course they were close to figuring something out, and were running out of counter space down there. He walked back over and pulled out a chair to sit.

Over the years he’d gotten somewhat closer to his parents. Well, he was more confident in his secret keeping ability now, which was what it boiled down to. Plus, it was advantageous to try and keep track of whatever ghost obliterating tech his parents had come up with this time, which was easier to do if he acted interested in their work. Especially now that Jazz was gone.

His mom’s grin got even wider at his question and he could tell she was bursting at the seams to talk about it. She put her pencil down, and swept up her mug to take a quick sip. It was white with Fenton Works plastered across the side.

“Ghost cores!” She set her mug back down, and pulled her goggles off her head. It let loose a few locks of her red hair that she quickly tucked behind her ear. “So, as you know all ghosts have power cores,” she shuffled around in her research, looking for something in particular. “Except, all ghosts have different power core ‘types’.” 

“Uh-huh,” he nodded along as if it was all new information. He took another bite of his apple. 

“So! Your father and I are working on not only a better method of categorizing ghosts that takes into account their power level but also the type of elemental core they possess. We think if we can find more commonalities and differences it will help find more exploitable weaknesses.” She found the page she was looking for and offered it to him, standing to lean over the table. Danny set his snack down and took the page to skim over it. It looked like a bunch of data on ghost’s with their power measurement, core type, temperature, ectoplasmic density, each a value that was plugged into an algorithm that spat out a number for a final threat level. 

“See, before, we would base an ecto-entities power level solely on the output of the ectoplasmic energy, but with this algorithm, we can have a more in depth understanding of the possible damage a ghost could do and how to counter it.” 

“Hence the ‘threat level’ rather than just ‘power level’?” he said glancing up at her.

“Exactly sweetie!” Her eyes softened as she looked at him. “Oh, you and your sister, you’re both so smart.” She came around the table to brush his bangs out of his face, and squish him in a one armed hug. “I couldn’t have asked for more perfect kids,” she said and kissed the top of his head before releasing him. He forced a smile. She said that now, but she didn’t know what he was. Who he was.

“Now, the issue is trying to find all the core types.” She leaned a hand on the table to look over his shoulder at the paper he was holding. “So far we know about fire, electricity, ice…” She held her chin thoughtfully. “And despite what the core may be, that doesn’t always mean their powers are a direct derivative, the applications of a core type can be extremely varied with only a thin connecting thread,” she muttered. Danny almost didn’t know if she was still talking to him, or just thinking out loud. “I’m doing research on what determines a ghost's core type. So far the leading theory is based on how they died. We think it’s the main contributing factor but I need more subjects to find anything conclusive.” 

If that were true, he’d have an electricity core. The thought made his breath stick in his throat and a cold sweat break on his forehead. Danny went to open his soda— or he would have, had it still been liquid. Instead there was a thick layer of frost on the outside of the aluminum where he’d been holding it, and the contents were frozen solid, bulging the top and bottom of the can. Yikes. He shot his Mom a panicked look, but she was thankfully too absorbed in her thoughts to notice. He handed her back the paper before he froze that too. 

“Sounds pretty cool, Mom. Welp, I gotta go do some reading for class so—” 

“Danny-boy!” Boomed his dad’s voice. He winced and turned to see his Dad coming up from the lab. 

“Hey, Dad.” 

“Helpin’ your Mom with some good ol’ fashioned ghost research are we?” 

“Actually I was—” 

“Maddie, I did what you asked! I tore the whole lab apart, but I still didn’t find the Fenton Ghost Gage anywhere.” Uh-oh. Danny slowly got up from the table and went to make for the door. 

“That’s odd, I swear I left it by the control panel a few weeks ago...” It was quiet for a moment. “Danny—” he turned back around, feigning ignorance with every ghostly molecule of himself . “—have you seen the Ghost Gage sitting around anywhere?” 

The New and Improved Fenton Ghost Gage was a relatively new invention, which actually worked pretty well. Except of course for the glitch that registered a level ten plus ghost in the house. His Mom had theorized that it was because of the proximity to the Ghost Zone that it was giving the off the charts false reads, and left it sitting in a tub of inventions to be tweaked. It was now safely placed between the drywall and plumbing of Casper High, sending it’s readings directly to Tucker's phone. Of course they’d already made the modifications for it to read core types, thanks to Tucker.  

“Nope, sorry. Have you checked the couch cushions? Or the fridge?” he suggested. 

“Of course! The couch! Good thinking, Dannio!” His Dad clapped him on the back with so much force the soda can flew from his grasp, and promptly exploded on contact with the tile floor. Right. Frozen soda explodes. Idiot. 

The outside had been completely frozen, but apparently on the inside it was slush, which was now all over the floor, the walls, the ceiling, and the three of them. It looked like a sugary crime scene. He quirked a nervous smile.

“Oops?” 

Thankfully the soda caused only minimal damage to his parents research papers, but by the time he was done helping clean, the soda on his clothes had dried and gone sticky. Looked like there was no easy phase clean for him. He excused himself upstairs under the false pretense of doing homework and was gone the next minute. 

Time to find that ghost. 

The wind whipped through his hair and whistled past his ears. It was getting colder by the day and he loved it. The leaves on the trees would start turning soon, turning Amity into a collage of colors. If it weren’t for school, he’d love fall. 

He made it to Casper in a minute flat, and started his search there. The weight of the thermos was a constant reassuring weight on his hip as he circled outward. If she was lurking anywhere, his ghost sense would let him know. He flew up and down streets, block after block, but he was getting nothing. Well, unless he counted the people on the street that whooped and pointed at him as he flew past. 

He’d just gone by the Nasty Burger when a crackling bolt of energy zipped past him and punched a hole through a billboard. He recoiled and adrenaline flared through him; or whatever the ectoplasmic equivalent was. He flipped around to see a familiar ghost hunter. 

“You never learn your lesson, do you, ghost?” Valerie growled. 

“I’ve never been the best in school, so I’m gonna say no,” he said with a grin. Another blast shot past him, but he didn’t give her the satisfaction of flinching. 

“Shut up, I know you were at Casper today. What can you tell me about the new ghost?” Danny huffed. He and his friends weren’t the only ones that had the school bugged. 

“You probably know about as much as I do, Red. She was gone almost as soon as I got there.” 

“Like, I’d buy that!” Despite her helmet he could tell she was just as pissed as ever. He splayed his hands in a placating manner. 

“Honest, why else would I be out here combing the city?” 

“How should I know what you’re planning? You’re probably out here waiting for the opportunity to ruin someone else’s life.” 

Danny groaned. “Seriously Red, I said I was sorry like two years ago, you need to learn to let stuff go.” Danny liked to think that deep down she knew he wasn’t there to hurt anyone. She certainly didn’t like him, but she had at least started giving him an opportunity to explain himself before trying to waste him. Baby steps he supposed. 

“Back at’cha, ghost.” She lifted her blaster and it whined as it charged. Welp, decorum was over for the day. He went intangible and rocketed through the billboard. Once on the other side he went invisible and tore off in a different direction. He knew she could track him, but it was worth the few seconds it bought him. The sound of her jet sled roared as she gave chase. 

Pink charges of ecto-blasts peppered his flight path, near misses and wildly inaccurate alike. He zig-zagged, holding onto his invisibility and intangibility as he slipped through buildings. This was the easiest way to lose her, she had to take the time to skirt around huge objects, or waste the time to go straight up allowing him to widen the gap. Not to mention, while intangible the lack of wind resistance put his speed at around 130 Mph. Last time they’d checked at least. 

Once he was sure he was far enough away from Val to have dropped off her radar, he turned and headed for home. He phased through his window and transformed back, flopping onto his bed. He’d been all over town and hadn’t got a single whiff of the new ghost. At least Valerie was on it too. Still, it didn’t make it any less frustrating. 

He glanced at the clock on his nightstand which read 5:10. He’d check for the ghost again after dinner with Sam and Tuck, maybe then he’d at least be able to avoid Valerie. For now, he could really use a break.

Chapter Text

Dear old Dad got home late that night while Wes and Kyle were tucking into a plate of pizza rolls. Wes heard the door open and his Dad's voice from down the hall.

“Tell Roger that it doesn’t matter, whatever it takes, Mr. Masters expects it to get done.” He walked past the living room without so much as a glance at the two of them. His voice faded down the hall punctuated by the sound of his door closing. 

Wes snorted and stuffed another pizza roll in his mouth. Stupid Dad with his stupid government job. Why the hell bring them to Illinois just to ignore them? He curled his fingers into the upholstery of their new couch, gripping it until his fingertips ached and the smell from the Ikea warehouse threatened to make him sick. He forced himself to swallow the bite and shoved his plate onto the coffee table. 

He got up and went to the kitchen for a capri-sun. If it hadn’t been Kyle that bought them, he’d be pissed about that too. His Dad seemed to treat him like he was still in elementary school no matter how old he got. 

Wes slammed the fridge door hard enough he heard the dressing and condiment bottles rattle inside. He went back to the living room, the TV illuminating the space in it’s flickering light.

He flopped backwards onto the couch, pushing his back into the corner of the sectional, wishing it’d swallow him up. Kyle was watching some alien history documentary. How ghosts could be pure fiction but aliens were “science-fact” was beyond Wes. He rolled his eyes and got out his phone, pulling up his knees. 

Instagram was a short reprieve, or it should have been. He scrolled past post after post of his old friends back in California, smiling wide in front of the beach, or the boys at the park playing basketball. Over there they hadn’t even started school yet, and wouldn't until the end of the month. To say he envied them was a gross understatement. 

“Are you gonna eat those?” Wes glanced up over his knees to see his brother pointing at his abandoned pizza rolls. 

“Go for it,” he said. Kyle scooped up his plate and went to town. Wes really should be doing his chapter reading for History, but the thought made him want to set something on fire. A part of him felt like he should be grateful for a fresh start after the divorce, but another part of him wanted nothing more than to dig his heels in. Just because his Mom was a liar and his Dad was an asshole didn’t mean they had to move across the country, why didn’t they get that? Maybe they did, and just didn’t care. 

He scrolled on his phone long enough for Kyle to watch another episode. By the end Wes had been sitting and refreshing his feed over and over again. He watched the buffer wheel spin, screen go white and the same post as last time take its most recent position at the top. He pulled down again, and watched the wheel spin for the millionth time. 

“Dude, this is just depressing to watch.”

He glanced over at Kyle, narrowing his eyes. “Got nothing better to do.” It was a lie and they both knew it. Kyle flicked the TV off and stood up from the couch. 

“C’mon.” Kyle came to stand in front of him expectantly.

“What?” 

“Let’s go have roof time.” 

Wes made a face. “You’re so weird, don’t call it that. Cringy as fuck, man.” 

Kyle grabbed a pillow and swung it lazily towards Wes’ head. “C’moooon lil bro! It’s roof time!” He said it in a big brother voice that always pissed Wes off. 

“No. Fuck off.” Wes held up an arm to shield his head. 

“C’mon!” Kyle insisted. “Don’t you wanna spend time with your brother?” he pouted. He swung the pillow at him again.

“I’m gonna kick you in the balls.” 

“Weeeeesslleeeyyyy! C’mooooon.” 

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking annoying.” Wes kicked half-heartedly towards his brother. He held up both arms to try and fend off the onslaught of his brother's pillow attack. 

“I’ll stop if you agree to go sit outside with me, Wes! Surrender, you’re out matched, kid!” Kyle picked up another pillow in his left hand, and continued batting at him. Wes tried to bury the beginnings of a smile behind a sour expression. 

“You just—Ow, stop— You just wanna go get high, don’t you?” 

“Oh, absolutely. But you think I’m going to sit out there alone like some kind of loser?” 

Wes anticipated his brother's next swing, and snatched the pillow from him. Now it was his turn. True to his word, he kicked a foot out directly into his brother's crotch. Kyle grunted and stumbled back a step, hands going down to grab his groin. Wes capitalized on his opportunity and lunged forward, springing off the couch to tackle his brother to the ground. 

They hit the carpet with a loud thud, and became a tangle of limbs. 

“Oh it’s on, kiddo!” Wes couldn’t hold back a laugh as he wrestled his brother. He attempted to push the pillow onto Kyle’s face at the same time as his brother was trying to twist his arm around in a joint lock. 

“Shut up, you’re only a year older than me,” Wes said, wriggling out of his brother's grip, and yanking his hat down over his eyes.

“A destined rematch to determine the stronger brother! A tale as old as time!” Kyle fought blindly to get a hold back on Wes. Wes whacked him on the side of the head with the pillow. 

“You’re a moron,” he said without any real venom. Kyle flung his hat away.  

“Don’t make me purple nurple you like last time.” 

Wes hit him again with the pillow as Kyle tried to steal it from him. “Try it, bitch, I’ll kick your ass.” 

“I did wrestling for two years!” 

“Yeah, in middle school, now you’re just lame and out of shape.”

Kyle gasped. “Bro, take it back.” He twisted the pillow hard to the right and broke Wes’ hold on it. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. You’re not out of shape, just the lame part.” Wes tried to get out of Kyle’s reach to escape retribution, but he wasn’t fast enough. Kyle got a hold of his shirt, and yanked him into a headlock. It had no real pressure behind it. 

“Hah ha! What have we here? Could it possibly be that I win again?” 

Wes rolled his eyes and pushed up on his brother’s arm to break the loop. “Shut up, stupid-ass,” he muttered. They broke apart, and Kyle stood up, offering him a hand. Wes accepted it with a puff. Kyle yanked him to his feet and punched him in the center of his chest. 

“Ow.” 

“Kyle : 1 Wes : 0!” 

Wes stopped. “Hey, wait, our score was up in the hundreds! What gives? I was winning you asshole.” He’d challenged Kyle to a game of Horse last month and it had been a slaughter to say the least. Kyle was walking towards the stairs. 

“Nu-uh, new-state-clean-slate, bro, we’re starting over!”

“That’s stupid, and I didn’t agree to that. You’re just a sore loser.” Wes trudged up the stairs after his brother. 

“Guess you’ll just have to wait till our next rematch.” Kyle shrugged, pushing into his room with a shoulder. Their rooms shared a wall, Kyle’s being the furthest down the hall. They both had north facing windows that had access to the brow of the roof which overlooked the pool in the backyard. Moving from a place with obscene living expenses to the armpit of Illinois had its perks he guessed. 

“Pick the challenge then. How about MarioKart?” he offered.

“After last time? No way dude.” Kyle went to his bedside table to retrieve a small baggie of weed and his pipe and lighter. Not that their Dad ever checked, but a pipe was easier to hide, and less hassle than a bong. Or so Kyle said. Wes didn’t really mess around with the stuff if he could help it. The times he tried made him so paranoid it felt like the end was nigh. 

“Ugh, fine, princess . What about Smash?” Wes slid the window open and popped out the screen. 

“Best outta five?” 

“Sure, tomorrow after school? You can’t play worth shit while high.” 

“Bruh, I’m great at playing while high, makes all the distractions just—” he wiggled his fingers— “fall away.” 

Wes snorted. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. The AI Pikachu wiped the floor with you.” Wes climbed out onto the roof, scooting to the side so Kyle had room to clamber out. Kyle handed him his pipe to hold and followed after. 

“No, that’s not what happened, okay?” Kyle pointed an accusing finger. “I let that adorable little rat fuck win, because what kind of monster would I be if I destroyed Pikachu?”  

Wes rolled his eyes. Kyle settled next to him, hanging his legs over the side and reached for his stuff back. Wes looked up at the sky, leaning his weight back on his hands. It was another clear night, the stars bright and unblemished. He heard the flick of his brother's lighter, but paid it no mind. The lack of light pollution was nice, if there was one positive from this whole situation, it was that. 

The wind stirred, a chill laced in that made Wes wish he’d brought his jacket. He was looking forward to the snow. He’d only seen snow once when was ten and his parents took all of them on a skiing trip to Lake Tahoe. He remembered biting it on the bunny hill, and how Kyle laughed so much while picking him up that he’d dropped him more than once. The memory felt brittle, like if he touched on it too much it might break into a million pieces. It always felt like that, remembering what it was like to be happy, to be a family. His parents had broken enough, he wanted this thing, this one little thing to stay whole. 

Was it childish to want that? 

He glanced at Kyle, who exhaled a plume of smoke, the slope of his shoulders loose and relaxed. For all his flaws and his seriously maddening, downright annoying personality, Wes was glad to have Kyle. After the divorce they’d gotten closer, and he wasn’t really sure where he’d be right now without his brother.

Not that he’d ever admit something so fucking embarrassing outloud. Jesus, what was he? He sounded like a Hallmark card.

He rubbed an eye, and laid back, the shingles of the roof cold against his back. The two were in a comfortable silence, Kyle too preoccupied with making short work of the bowl he’d packed to make conversation yet. That was alright with Wes. He was tired and still a little freaked out after today. He knew better than to bring up his run in with the ghost at school to Kyle. 

This place was weird, and he had so many questions he felt like he was going insane. First thing tomorrow he was going to ask someone what the hell was going on in this town. He could try and ask the Danny Fenton kid, since his parents were apparently the ghost experts. He rolled the idea around for a few seconds in his head. Maybe it’d be best to ask more than one person. Leave Danny as a last resort. 

He was staring at the first stars of Orion as they peaked over the dark horizon. That’s when he saw it. His brows furrowed and he sat up. 

“Dude, do you see that?” He smacked the back of his hand against Kyle’s arm. 

“What?” Kyle looked up. 

“That!” He pointed. In the sky and getting closer was a glowing streak. 

It wasn’t a star, or a comet, that was for damn sure. It was flying in a wide circling pattern. It was fast, whatever it was. 

Kyle gasped next to him. “Holy shit, a UFO.” Kyle fumbled around to try and get his phone, in his haste he sent his lighter tumbling down the roof and off the edge. Wes trained his eyes on the shape as it got closer, squinting. Kyle had gotten his phone and had started recording, feverishly commentating about the time, place, and the appearance of an “alien craft”. 

Wes leaned forward, straining his eyes. As the shape wound closer it looked… almost humanoid? It seemed to move in a thoughtful systematic way. Like it was covering specific ground. 

“I’m so putting this on my Snapchat story,” Kyle said. He turned his phone towards Wes. “Say hi! In case it goes viral.” 

“Dude, stop.” Wes pushed his brother's phone away from his face and back towards the… well. UFO. 

As suddenly as it had appeared, it sharply changed direction and flew away, before blipping out of existence entirely. It hadn’t gotten close enough to identify, but Kyle seemed to only care about his video and nothing else. Wes sat there thoroughly confused, staring at the point in the sky the shape had vanished into thin air. 

“Clearly this is evidence of alien superior technology. The fact it sped up and disappeared so fast means they’ve cracked flight speeds faster than light, dude!” Kyle buzzed. He was tapping on his phone, already sending the video to everyone he knew. 

Aliens, really? Could this day get any weirder? 

“Look, look, Hannah, snapped me back.” Kyle leaned over so they could both see his screen. He opened the Snap, and Wes saw a girl with blonde hair and dark eye shadow. He vaguely recognized her from school, part of Kyle’s new stoner group of friends. The video showed just the top of her face as she looked down at her phone. Her eyes were crinkled at the corners.  

“Kyle, what the fuck,” she laughed. “That’s not an alien, doofus. It’s clearly a ghost. Probably Phantom. He flies around almost every night.” She leaned back and sprayed canned whipped cream directly into her mouth. “ ‘Aliens’! Oh my god I’m totally telling Jennie.” She snorted as she laughed and the snap ended. 

Phantom? That was Phantom? The image of the ghost boy from earlier lingered in his mind. Kyle was already recording a video to send back. 

“Hannah, obviously you have very little experience with UFO’s. I know an alien when I see one and that was an A L I E N. Okay? Don’t buy into this ghost conspiracy, it’s what people want you to think, but it’s probably all aliens! Or beings from like the 4th dimension, I don’t know.” 

His brother's voice sounded too loud. His eyes traced the place where the shape… the ghost had been. He rubbed at his temples with his fingers. Kyle continued arguing with his new local friends, protesting the idea of ghosts. Wes sighed, a headache building behind his eyes. 

He nudged his brother with an elbow. “I’m gonna get to bed.” Kyle gave him a distracted goodbye and Wes headed back inside, mind swirling with the image of white hair and glowing green eyes. 

***

The final bell for first period rang and with it commenced the beginning of the school day. 

Joy.

His sleep that night had been fitful and interrupted. He didn’t have any nightmares, or at least none he could remember, thank God. But there were a few times he could have sworn there was someone standing in his doorway, watching. He shook it from his thoughts by busying himself with his camera. 

Students with no cameras of their own were having some checked out to them for photography class. The teacher told them to check over everything and make sure all previous files were deleted from the memory card, and there were no cracked lenses. He ignored the majority of what was being said. 

When he was young he would use his Mom’s camera. Just to mess around really, it wasn’t like he had the lofty goals of being a professional photographer. But his Mom didn’t see it like that. She bought him lenses and his own high-end camera for his 16th birthday. That was before everything fell apart. Before he found out about Emily.

Once the class started going he hoped he’d enjoy it and actually learn something. He was ready to start taking pictures already. Unfortunately, the day's class was all about the different buttons and functions on the cameras, explaining exposure, aperture and manually managing the iso. Uck. Yawn. 

Towards the end of class Ms. Fletcher let them have “free time” to explore the options on their cameras on their own. Learn by doing and all that.

“This is way too much all at once,” complained the girl next to him. Mia, was her name,  if he remembered correctly. She had brown hair, and light eyes, her tan skin suggesting a mixed heritage. She was turning her camera around in her hands like a kid trying to find the on switch on a new toy. He smiled, turning toward her. 

“First time using a fancy camera?” 

She let out an agitated sigh. “Yeah. I took this class because I thought it’d be easy and I could just, I don’t know, take cute pictures of my dog or something.” She put the camera down on the table, gently, like she was afraid of breaking it despite her frustration. 

“Yeah, it can be complicated at first.” He lifted his own to inspect it. 

“You brought your own, right? That’s not a shitty school one.” 

“Yeah, it’s mine. Birthday gift.” 

Mia whistled. “Pricy, your parents must be loaded.” 

Wes shrugged a shoulder, “I wouldn’t say that exactly.” 

“Don’t be modest, it’s okay!” She patted him on the shoulder. “Plus I’m sure however rich your family is, it’s nowhere near the Mansons.” 

“The Mansons?” 

“Uh... yeah .” She looked confused for a second before understanding flickered in her eyes. “Oh, that’s right you’re new. Sam Manson, the spooky goth chick that hangs around Fenton and Foley. She’s in our homeroom class.” She held her pointer fingers up by her ears to mime bat ears.  

“Oh, yeah, her.” 

“She says she doesn’t like people knowing even though it's super obvious. Her parents are always in the news for making donations and stuff.”

They fell into an awkward silence, and Mia shuffled her feet. 

“Well, uh. Tell you what. If you help me with this camera crap, I’ll…” She stopped to think. “I’ll give you the inside scoop about the school. Help you get caught up and fit in, ya’know?” She held her hand towards him. “Sound good?” 

Wes would have helped her out even if she hadn’t offered to keep him in the social loop. It could be useful, especially for a few things in particular. 

“Deal.” He shook her hand, a little surprised by her grip strength. 

“I’m not as popular as Paulina and Star but I still have an ear to the ground. So if you want to know who's single or who can write your english essay on the cheap: I’m your girl.” She pulled her hand back to jab a thumb at her chest for emphasis. 

Wes chuckled. “Thanks. I actually do have some questions.” 

“Shoot.” 

“This Phantom ghost, what do you know about him?” 

She looked surprised, before she smiled. There was something in her expression that Wes couldn’t place. 

“Phantom? Really?” She shrugged. “Alright, I see you.” She scooted her chair closer to his. “Phantom showed up freshman year, no one knows why, but since he popped up he’s been saving Amity from all sorts of ghosts.” She said it like it was the most normal, perfectly sane thing. “Not only is he hella cute but he’s also basically a hero.” 

Wes frowned in confusion. That wasn’t at all what Mr. and Mrs. Fenton had said. “Why would a ghost help people? What’s he get out of it? Also, isn’t he… you know. Dead? Isn’t it kinda creepy to have a crush on him?” 

“How should I know?  And dead or alive, he’s still a total heart throb around here, get used to it.” She sighed, looking fed up with his lack of understanding. “Listen, all I do know is that if an evil ghost is breathing down your neck your only real hope in this place is Phantom. Really, ask anyone.” Wes’ thoughts drifted back to his brush with death yesterday.. 

“You shouldn’t be telling people the fantasy version of things, Mia,” came a cold voice. Wes jumped, turning to look at the girl looming over them. Her arms were crossed over her chest, curly hair back lit by the fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling. Fantasy version? What was Valerie talking about? 

Mia’s face went from warm and open to closed and stand-offish. She crossed her legs and sat back in her chair. 

“Oh come on Valerie, we all know you’re not a fan of him, but you could at least try and be reasonable.” 

“Reasonable? Don't listen to her new kid,” Valerie jabbed a finger towards him, “if there's one thing Phantom is good at, it’s manipulating the public perception. Don’t be fooled like the rest of this school, Phantom will ruin your life without an ounce of remorse.”  

Wes blinked, caught off guard by her ferocity. In chemistry she seemed like a perfectly normal, kind girl. He made a mental note not to get on her bad side. 

Mia made a dismissive sound in the back of her throat. “He wasn’t asking you Valerie, he was asking me . Butt out.” 

Mia and Valerie glared hard at each other, neither backing down. It went on for what felt like ever. Wes was afraid he was about to end up right in the middle of a cat fight. But eventually, Valerie let out a sound of disgust then turned and stalked off back to her table. Mia watched her go, gaze steady. Once Valerie sat down, Mia relaxed and let out a breath. 

“God, she really needs to get that stick out of her ass.” 

“What the hell was that about?” 

“Apparently freshman year her Dad lost his job and she's convinced it was Phantom’s fault.” Mia uncrossed her legs, sitting more casually again. 

“Was it?” 

Mia looked annoyed. “I don’t know, I wasn’t there.” She ran her fingers through her hair, taking a small swatch and braiding it absentmindedly. “Listen, people have different opinions... but Phantom saved my life.” It was small and serious the way she said it, like it was a confession.  “And not just once but on several occasions. It’s fine to ask questions, I don’t blame you. But just wait and watch, then decide for yourself.” Before Wes could say or ask anymore, the bell rang. Mia started collecting her stuff. 

“See you tomorrow, Wes,” she said brightly, as if the seriousness from before was just a figment of his imagination. 

“Uh, yeah. Tomorrow.” He watched her go, getting up and gathering his own belongings.     

***

Sixth period rolled around and Wes was ready for the day to be over with already. 

In his previous classes he’d asked other students here and there about the ghosts, and even if he didn’t directly ask about Phantom, the conversation eventually led there anyway. 

He did regret asking Star during lunch, which seemed to have summoned Paulina from the aether. She went on almost the entire lunch period about how her and the ghost boy were “meant to be” and how cute he was, with his snow white hair and tanned skin. Wes was debating faking a family emergency to get away from her. Talk about obsessed. 

He shook his head at the memory and closed his locker.

Next up: Chemistry. At the thought he deflated further. He’d totally forgotten about the quiz today. Damnnit, Fenton.

He started walking down the hall, daydreaming about whatever gourmet frozen dinner him and Kyle would have later for dinner. He was about to turn the corner down the hall towards the chem room when he heard a raised voice. 

“Hey Fentina, watch where you’re fucking going.” He turned towards the sound to look. The halls were clearing, there being only a minute or so till class, but that didn’t stop the few scattered people from stopping to idly watch Dash Baxter slam Danny Fenton against a locker. Wes couldn’t help but wince. From the sound alone he’d guess that was going to leave a bruise. 

“You might be taller now but that doesn’t mean I won’t still flatten you, got that?” Dash announced. He was clearly making a show of it. Wes wondered why. Fenton was definitely the lowest on the social ladder, why would someone like Dash need to establish his power over someone who had none? Wes shifted his weight, remembering that trying to apply logic to bullies was a losing battle. 

Danny though… He seemed completely... unfazed. He looked at Dash like an overworked retail employee looked at a raving customer. The dark bags under his eyes and the uncaring air he had coupled with his black hoodie and torn jeans made him look like an emo band's wet dream. 

“Got it, now can we all get to class, please? I’m trying not to be tardy as much this year,” Danny said. Dash leaned further into Danny’s space. 

“Dream on, Fenton,” Dash leered. He leaned back and let Danny go. He made to leave, or at least Wes thought he was. Danny seemed to think so too. Which meant he was caught off guard when Dash turned and punched him in the stomach. Even from a few paces away, Wes heard the air rush from Danny’s lungs. He staggered a bit, arm wrapping around his midsection. 

Dash laughed and walked off, flexing an arm to his football team buddies who joined in as they made their way down the hall like a pack of hyenas. 

As if that was the cue, everyone that had stopped to watch went back to their own business, as if nothing happened. Wes didn’t know what to think at that moment. He knew everyone called Danny a loser, and he hadn’t exactly gotten along with the guy himself but… That felt like a step too far. He couldn’t help but pity the poor dude a bit.

It had been a long time since Wes was the one pushed around the school yard. He remembered what it felt like though, and he had never been in a rush to expose himself to the kind of treatment again. In fact he’d done just about anything to keep himself from the bottom. He’d done his fair share of looking down on losers and saying cruel things to be accepted into the throng of popular kids in California. He wasn’t proud of it, as he got older he realized that. It made his stomach clench with shame.

He’d have never done what Dash just did though. 

Wes watched Danny lean a shoulder against the wall of lockers and catch his breath. He glanced around, and when he was satisfied that no one was still watching, he straightened, took a breath and rolled a shoulder, nonchalant. 

Wes felt his brain stutter and stop.

Uh. What?

Just a second ago Danny was writhing in pain the way someone just punched in the gut would, and the next he was acting like he was fine. Like he’d just got done with a leisurely jog.  

At this point Wes was starting to wonder if he was being gaslit by this whole school, what the fuck?

He watched Danny put a book into his locker, and then lock it up. He started down the hallway, no evidence he was in any pain or struggling for breath what-so-ever. Wes turned and walked towards the classroom. He didn’t want Danny to know he’d been watching from around the corner. 

Wes sat down, spreading out his stuff trying to make it look like he'd been there for ages. A few seconds later the tardy bell rang. Another few seconds after that, Danny walked in. 

“Mr. Fenton, you’re late—”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t make eye contact with the teacher, just made a beeline for their desk and slumped into his seat. Mrs. Merriweather looked ticked. 

“Pick up your tardy slip at the end of class young man.” 

“Yep.” 

Even Mrs. Merriweather seemed taken aback by Danny’s odd energy, but she said nothing else. Instead she jumped into the lesson plan for the day. 

Wes wasn’t paying attention. He was looking at his lab partner, still trying to figure out what he’d just seen. Maybe Danny had just been acting like it was worse than it was to… what, get sympathy? Have Dash back off quicker? Both seemed likely, logical. It must have been, what else could it be? 

Danny seemed to feel his eyes on him. He turned to Wes, his blue eyes sharp and angry. 

“What?” he snapped. 

“Nothing. Sorry.” Wes disengaged, looking down at his blank notebook page. He heard Danny sigh. 

Class dragged on, and they didn’t say another word to each other the entire period. But that wasn’t too surprising, considering Danny left in the middle of class. 

They’d just got done taking their lab safety quiz and were handing them back when out of the corner of his eye Wes saw Danny shiver. He also saw a flash of… what looked like smoke? Vape? Was Danny seriously vaping in class? 

“Fuck,” Danny muttered under his breath and his hand shot straight up into the air. “Mrs. Merriweather, can I use the bathroom before we start the lab?” Danny’s typically tired and slouched posture had gone ramrod straight and the air around him felt desperate and panicked. Mrs. Merriweather studied him seriously for a second, before she relented. 

“Alright, don’t take too long.” 

Danny scrambled from his seat and out the door, slamming it behind him. It left a weird silence in the classroom. 

O….kay? That was weird, super weird. He looked around the class. A student adjacent to him caught his confused look and shrugged. 

“He just does that, always has. Some people think he has some sort of chronic illness or something.” 

“Quiet please, everyone. I’m passing out the lab instructions and then we’ll be getting started.” 

Wes couldn’t help but look towards the door where Danny had disappeared seconds earlier. He felt pretty safe in saying not only was the town weird, but everyone in it. But maybe Danny more so than the others.   

Chapter Text

Shit, shit, shit. Of course this would happen; a ghost attack two days in a row. Danny’s luck was continually getting worse. Maybe someone cursed him. He should ask Sam about that. 

She’d probably know. 

The soft soles of his sneakers smacked against the linoleum floor as he ran. The halls were deserted, thank God. The likelihood of the alarm being pulled was reduced by at least a little bit. 

First thing’s first: he had to get the thermos from his locker. He transformed as he ran, the cold passing over him. He felt lighter, leaning forward into flight and zipping through the halls. He put on the brakes as he reached his locker, pushing an intangible hand through the metal to retrieve the thermos.  

Energy buzzed through him, filling his ears with its dull roar. It was like adrenaline, pulsing through him, ectoplasm bursting to life to supply his core with power. 

It was a familiar feeling—a sensation that used to leave him shaky and weak in the knees but now, he felt it sharpen his mind—power roiling underneath his skin, begging to be released. 

Which ghost was crashing the party this time? 

“I am the Box Ghost!” Echoed down the hall from around the corner. 

Danny’s shoulders slumped, and his head lolled back. Seriously? The Box Ghost? He heaved a sigh. Whatever; at least it’d be over quick. 

Hopefully. 

He flew down the hall and rounded the corner, coming face to face with the self proclaimed “Ruler of Boxes” and “all Square Shaped Containers”. 

“Why not make this easier on both of us and just surrender for once?”

“I will not do that! Never will the might of the Box Ghost quiver before a simple teenager!” He shook his fist like he was in some cheesy play.

Danny had to focus on not crushing the thermos in his hand like an empty soda can. At this point he had to wonder if the Box Ghost just did this because he was board . Ha, get it? Like cardboard? Bored?

...Nah, that needed more work. He was running out of puns for Boxy at this point. It’d been two years for fuck’s sakes. 

“Fine. The hard way then. Let’s at least move to a more appropriate arena.” Danny sprang to action. He flipped forward, bringing his heel down on top of Boxy’s head. The force of the kick slammed the ghost straight down through the floor with a cry of surprise. Luckily he’d gone intangible so there wasn’t a gaping hole in the floor of the hallway. 

Danny wasn’t some weak fourteen year old anymore, and if the Box Ghost thought he was going to hold back, he was grossly mistaken. He was having a shitty day, and ghost fights were always the perfect way to blow off steam. 

Danny went intangible and followed Boxy down through the floor and into the basement of the school. 

The Box Ghost was lying dazed in a small crater of broken concrete as Danny bared down on him. He somersaulted, aiming to slam feet first in the center of his foe. The Box Ghost yelped and went intangible just in time to avoid getting smashed further into the cement foundation. It shook the ground and sent cracks spider webbing several feet from the point of impact.

Boxy rolled away, and Danny had to dislodge his foot from the ground, floating above the rubble. He clipped the thermos to his waist, and pushed energy into the palm of his hand. An ecto-blast hissed and illuminated the dark underbelly of the school in green. The ecto-blast felt like a caged animal in his hand, a nocked arrow quivering against its string in anticipation of being shot. 

The Box Ghost scrambled into a floating position himself, and flung an arm in front of him. 

“Fear the wrath of… A—Ama… The Amazon?” Following his gesture, a wave of glowing Amazon boxes flew towards Danny. He kept a firm hold on the wild energy, focusing it to a single point and letting it go as a laser rather than a single blast. The beam sliced through the boxes like butter. Danny went intangible as the remnants of the boxes and their contents scattered past and through him, carried on by the inertia. 

Whoever took care of the school supply budget probably wouldn’t be too happy about that. Whoops.

The Box Ghost grunted with effort and sent more levitating boxes hurling at Danny. 

Danny lifted his hand, palm flat. Instead of forcing the energy outward like a projectile he guided it to take shape in the air. A shield spread out in front of him, a wide, flat disk of swirling caustic green. The boxes slammed up against it with no hope of weakening its integrity. Danny rolled his eyes. 

He was getting detention for this ? 

Boxy moved again, trying to come in from the right side with more boxes. 

Danny abandoned the shield, dropping to the ground and ducking. The side swipe of cardboard whipped above his head but left him untouched. He shot into the air, rocketing towards his most annoying enemy. 

Boxy tried to reel back, get out of range, but Danny was too fast. He caught the side of the other ghost's face in a right hook. The power behind it sent the ghost sailing to the left and into a giant fuse box on the wall. It had already been dim in the basement, but the damage to the electrical box plunged them into total darkness. And with it probably the whole school. 

Dammit. 

The only light came from the cold glow of their bodies. Danny watched the Box Ghost peel himself off the wall. He glared at Danny with fire in his eyes and with a scream he flung himself back into the fight. 

It was like fighting a human. Seriously; Dash hit harder. And Valerie harder than that. Then again, with her suit Danny didn’t think it really counted, calling her power equal to a human’s. 

Danny dodged blow after blow, slipping past the ghosts wide swings and clumsy blasts. He was hardly breaking a sweat. He’d fought the Box Ghost since he was fourteen, at this point he could do it in his sleep.  

Boxy let out a frustrated cry and tackled Danny, gloved hands gripping him by the shoulders with a vice like grip. The two of them tumbled backwards, flipping end over end in the air a few times. Anger flared in the pit of Danny’s stomach. 

“Get the hell off me! ” Danny tensed his lower body, coiling up and then snapping like a taut rubber band. He kicked the Box Ghost with a force that would have shattered ribs if ghosts had any. He followed it up with a blast that caught Boxy in the shoulder and sent him spinning away.  

“I will not be defeated again by you, Phantom. I’ll have your respect and then all of Amity Park’s.” Boxy sent box after box hurdling at Danny. 

It felt like some sort of mini-game, blasting the glowing boxes out of the dark air one after the other. They exploded in flashes of green, cardboard pieces littering the ground, smouldering with red embers. 

“Why don’t you pick fights with someone more on your level.” Boxy was floating closer to the ground, unsteady, and Danny could tell he was spent. He floated down towards him, clenching his hand into a fist and extinguished the burning ecto-energy.

“I’m not in the mood for this anymore. You’re pissing me off.” The temperature of the air plunged, and his words fogged from his mouth. “Go back to the Ghost Zone, Box. Before I make you.” His words were rigid with the threat. He loomed over the Box Ghost, the blue glow of ice building in his hand. 

The other ghost held his gaze at first, before it faltered and flashed with fear. Boxy knew he was no match for him, he could see it in the Box Ghost’s eyes. As delusional as he was, or pretended to be, he knew. 

The Box Ghost turned and fled, holding his wounded shoulder as he shot through the ceiling.

The threat was gone. The space fell silent, but Danny remained rigid, his arms stiff at his sides. His breath clouded the air in front of him in short shallow puffs. The blackness of the room vibrated like white noise around him. 

He still felt like a coiled spring, a trap ready to slam shut. He had to go back, he knew he did. Face the screeching music that was his fucked up life. 

Was this really it for him? To get detention, to fail classes, to always be in danger? To be pushed around, called a loser by people who barely even fucking knew him? Risking his life for people who didn’t give a shit? People that spit in his face the next day? Was he destined to be alone? To never be enough? To be something he couldn't change? Something his parents would never fucking love ?

Emotion swelled in his throat, constricting his breathing. He was shaking but not from the cold. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He screamed and fired a blast of ice with everything he had at the nearest wall.

The impact rattled the room and felt like it shattered the air itself. There was the harsh sound of creaking metal at different points all across the room. 

He dropped to the ground, his hands coming up to fist in his hair, chest heaving. He stared at nothing, listened to nothing. If time stopped he wouldn’t have known it. All he knew was that his chest ached and his head was pounding. 

He still had energy. So much sometimes he felt like there was an ocean inside him, sloshing and raging. When he first got his powers, he had gotten worn out in ghost form so easily. 

But the numbers and his parents' ghost equipment didn’t lie. The more he fought, the more he grew, the stronger he got. 

He hated it. What if one day he woke up to find he’d destroyed everyone and everything he ever cared about?  Even after everything he’d done, everything Clockwork had done, was Dan still his future?

The sound of the basement door creaking open made Danny freeze. Reality clicked back into place as the rays of a flashlight caught him in its beam. He must have looked like a deer in the headlights, wide eyes snapping up to the person coming down the stairs. 

“P—Phantom? That you?” Danny knew that voice. It was Rob, Casper’s custodian. He was probably here to check the breaker box. He was a sweet old guy who sang to his dead wife when he thought no one was in the halls. She followed him around, a meek and quiet spirit, hardly visible and with no obsession other than standing next to the love of her life. 

Danny winced, glancing around at the sorry state of the place. This wasn’t the first disaster he’d left for the poor guy to try and clean up and it wouldn’t be the last. He never seemed to hold a grudge though. Especially after the time Danny stopped Bertrand from eating him alive. 

Danny held a hand up to shield his eyes from the flashlight. “Yeah. Sorry,” he croaked. He floated back up into the air a few feet. 

“What— what the devil happened in here, sonny?” He moved the flashlight from the huge crater in the floor, to the cardboard strewn ground, and the huge pile of ice on the opposite wall. But it didn't stop there; Danny watched as Rob’s flashlight illuminated pipes all over the room covered in a thick layer of frost, some of which looked like they’d burst at the seams, the water that gushed out having frozen. They looked like some sort of cave feature or icicles formed in freezing rain.  

“Ghost,” was all Danny could muster.  

Rob frowned and wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. “An’ why’s everything frozen? Feels damn near twenty below in here.” 

Danny smiled weakly at that. It probably was. 

He didn’t answer, just drifted up through the ceiling, his tail following after him in a gentle streak. 

The halls were dark, but not empty. He turned invisible as he emerged and glanced at a clock. It was around the time sixth period let out. He’d been down there longer than he thought. 

He sighed, making a girl start and look around. 

He bobbed towards the chem room, hoping to snag his stuff without Mrs. Merriweather seeing one Danny Fenton, who was probably in a heap of trouble. He poked his head into the classroom. It was mostly cleared out, a few stragglers still cleaning up their lab equipment. The class wasn’t as dark as the halls were, the huge windows letting in daylight. 

Mrs. Merriweather was sitting at her desk, organizing papers with a pinched look on her face. He stuck close to the wall as he slunk towards his seat, third table from the front. His stuff was still exactly the way he’d left it. 

He reached for his book, turning it invisible as soon as his fingers brushed its surface. Danny tucked it into the corner of his arm, and went for his binder next. He lifted it, strangling back a swear as it sent his pencil rolling off the table. He lunged for it, but missed. It clattered and bounced against the hard floor. He cringed as everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to look. 

Nice one. He’d been like this for how long now and he couldn’t even manage to pick up three things unnoticed? Idiot.

Mrs. Merriweather stood up from her desk and walked over, brows furrowed behind her coke-bottle glasses. He made himself intangible, floating backwards and holding his breath. Merriweather stooped down to pick up the pencil, examining it, and then looking down at the now empty table. He pleaded silently that she would just shrug and think nothing of it like a shitty video game character AI. 

The other students had already gone back to their own business, eager to get out of class. Merriweather lingered, a hand going out to touch the place his stuff had been piled. 

Shit. 

She looked up and around the room, her eyes sliding harmlessly over his invisible form, none the wiser. She glanced towards the door and then back to the pencil in her hand. She snorted, clenching the pencil in her fist and went back to her desk, her heels clicking on the floor.

He let out the breath he’d been holding, wiping away cold sweat from his forehead. That was way too close. He really needed to get his shit together.

 Danny glided towards the white board, sinking through the wall into the next classroom. He kept going straight, headed for the nearest bathroom. At this point he knew exactly where every bathroom and supply closet was in the school from any direction and through any wall. He probably knew more about the inner workings of the place than the people who’d built it.  

The restroom was pitch black, no outside windows or skylight to let light seep in. He floated near the ceiling, listening for any sign that someone else was still in there. There was only the distant clamour from outside. 

Satisfied the coast was clear, he touched down softly in a stall, and let the warmth of his human side surge inside him. He closed his eyes against the blinding light of his transformation. Slowly the sensations of being human came back to him, the heaviness of gravity pulling on his limbs. The general ache of having a physical form. 

He swayed on his feet, slumping against the stall wall for support as tiredness hit him like a train. It was all catching up to him: the exhaustion, the hunger, the sharp pain pushing at the back of his eyes. He should have eaten more at lunch

His ghost half didn’t suffer much from lack of sleep or food. He had his core and the surplus of ectoplasm and didn’t have to feel how heavy and shaky his body was. How fragile. How weak .  

Danny stayed like that for a few seconds, mentally preparing himself to leave, for people to see him.  

When he’d built up the nerve, he walked out. Like always, he went to his locker. Sam and Tuck were waiting there for him. 

“Box Ghost?” Sam asked, amusement coloring her voice. But when she looked at him closer, her face fell. Worry was a familiar look on her. “Are you okay, Danny? What happened?” 

“Yeah, you look like shit dude.”

“Gee, thanks.” Danny stood in front of his locker and dropped his forehead against its cool metal surface with a thunk . He hadn’t been ready to come out after all. Weirdly, he wished he was back down in the basement, where it was cold and quiet and he wasn’t under anyone's scrutiny. 

“It was just the Box Ghost though, right ? He’s all the scanner picked up. Well, other than you, obviously,” Tucker said. 

Danny didn’t answer right away. Instead he closed his eyes, focusing only on the place where his head pressed against his locker. He took a deep breath. Tried to get his mind to stop whirling. He just had to push through it like he always did. 

A hand on his shoulder, rubbing up and down slowly, reassuringly. He turned his head and opened an eye to see Sam looking at him. Her eyes were troubled and a frown tugged at the corners of her bold purple lips. 

“It’s fine guys. Promise. Just Boxy. We played the game, I kicked his ass, he went home with his tail tucked between his legs.” He shrugged and leaned away from his locker. He started spinning the padlock. Sam removed her hand.

"Did the power outage have anything to do with the fight?” Sam asked. 

Danny put the thermos on his shelf and forced a laugh. “Yeah, uh… Kinda punched Boxy into the breaker box. Like, really really hard. The thing is probably so fucked.” 

“Dude, nice! Hopefully they’ll release us early because of—” 

“There you are, Fenton .” 

It wasn’t Dash, but Danny still stiffened. He turned to see Wesley Weston storming up to them. Even in the dim emergency lights, he’d know that stupid redhead anywhere.

“What the fuck, dude? Where the hell were you?”

Danny grimaced. Great, just what he needed. Another person on his case. “Uh, the bathroom?” Playing dumb was the easiest, most effective option. Sam and Tucker turned towards Wesley, a barrier of sorts between them.  

“For like twenty minutes? Yeah, right, like I’d believe that.” He glanced at Sam and Tuck, before his gaze landed back on Danny, eyes like flint. “I’m onto you,” Wesley spat. For a second those words made his heart skip. “You ditched class just so you didn’t have to do the stupid lab, didn’t you?” 

Oh thank God.

Danny said nothing, looking off to the side before looking back at Wesley. He was going for nervous, sheepish even, as if he’d been caught. It seemed to work. Wesley growled in frustration. 

“Unbelievable. What’s even the fucking point of skipping? Not like you can use the shit anyway, I’m the one that has to do everything.” Wesley adjusted his grip on his books to rub his temples. “Listen, okay? I’m not thrilled to be stuck as your lab partner either. But unlike you, I’m not an asshole and I wouldn’t just fuck off and leave you high and dry. So don’t do it to me, got it? Great.” Before any of them could say anything, Wesley Weston turned and walked off. 

They all stared after him. 

“Holy shit, what the hell’s his problem?” Sam asked.

“No clue, but that dude’s definitely got some major issues, man,” Tucker said.

Danny shook his head. He didn’t have the energy to deal with this. “Come on, let's get to class. I wanna go home.” 

***

They ended up getting released forty minutes early. The breaker box was beyond simple repair, which meant the whole building was without power until tomorrow at least. There was also the burst pipes. Danny told himself he shouldn’t feel guilty, but he did anyway. 

He got home and made his way up to his room, dropping his bag to the floor by his desk with a thud. He stood in the middle of the room, staring at his bag. His head was static. Without thinking, he pulled out his desk chair and rifled in his bag, pulling out whatever the fuck homework he grabbed first.

Ugh.

Algebra .

Whatever.

All he needed to do was put the pencil to the page. Just that. The first thing. Write his goddamn name. He knew that one, right? His eyes skipped down the page to the first question. The black text stood out boldly from the bleach white computer paper it was printed on. The numbers and letters swam in front of his eyes as he tried to make heads or tails of what the hell it wanted him to do. The longer he looked the harder it was to keep his mind on homework. 

He wondered if the Box Ghost had listened and gone home. He hoped so, he had enough to worry about with the new ghost he’d failed to track down yesterday. With any luck she’d gone back too. It reminded him that he still had to empty that big cat ghost from the thermos back into the Ghost Zone. It wasn’t anywhere near full capacity, but it was risky to carry around a ghost or keep one in his locker for extended periods. His eyes fell to the gleaming metal cylinder poking out from his bag. He would do it now, but his parents were down in the lab, probably working on their newest paper on the ghost threat level. He really didn’t want to have to face the fifth degree for where, how and why he’d caught a ghost. 

He stared back down at his homework. The same question stared back, taunting him. He scribbled down the equation, hoping it’d click if it was in his own handwriting. He gazed at the mix of rigid and heavy left-slanted variables of the expression in his writing. He still had no clue what to do next. That was fucking pointless. 

He groaned in frustration, resting his elbows on his desk and holding his head in his hands. 

Why did math have to be so fucking hard? 

Ugh, fuck it. He’d just cheat off Sam’s homework tomorrow. 

Like always. 

He leaned back in his chair, hanging his head back to look up at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers stuck to his ceiling. A smile worked it's way to his face as he looked at them. The memory of the first stars to decorate his ceiling came to mind. 

He was six and his Dad helped put them up. His parents knew how much he loved space, and even if it wasn’t ghosts, they wanted to nurture his love for science. His Dad had hoisted him up on his shoulders, giant hands around Danny’s ankles to keep him steady as he slapped the stars up with reckless abandon. He remembered bouncing around on his bed in anticipation of turning the lights off to see them glow. 

He fell asleep under the stars for the first time that night. 

These weren’t the same stars. The original ones lost their glow after the years, pale green outlines that stopped sticking and fell down one by one in the middle of the night. 

For his fourteenth birthday, Jazz bought him another pack. He hadn’t put them up right away, lost under a pile of gifts, and forgotten in the bustle of summer fun and then starting high school a few months later. 

Then he had his accident. Everything was different then. If he didn’t have time to put them up before, he definitely didn’t after he took on the role of Protector of Amity Park. 

It wasn’t until Danny was laid up in bed after defeating Pariah Dark, and Jazz took it upon herself to tidy up his room that she found them stuffed into one of his desk drawers. She hid them from him and excused herself to do some studying. 

A few days later she returned, excited as could be with a gift in her hands. She dropped it onto his lap, and dismissed him when he tried to object to deserving a gift. He tore the wrapping paper off an clearly recycled shoe box. Upon lifting the lid he saw the bright glowing green stars. The light wasn’t that of cheap glow in the dark plastic. It was radiant and bright, it almost looked like… He looked up at her, confused and delighted. 

Jazz jumped at the chance to explain. She told him how she’d recruited the help of Sam and Tucker and a bit of their parents' technology to fabricate new glow-in-the-dark stars. Special ones, made especially to activate in the presence of ecto-energy. She excitedly reported that because they were powered by the nearest source of ectoplasmic energy, aka him, they would always glow, never fade.  

Jazz would totally lie when asked and claim that he had started to cry, but what did she know? He was just squinting because they were bright. Crying? Not him. 

Danny had been going crazy with nothing to do. He grinned, and tried to push himself up, wincing from the pain and dizzy from the effort. Jazz had put a hand on his shoulder and told him to tell her where to put them, and she would do it. 

A few minutes later Jazz was standing on his desk chair, holding a star between her fingers, moving a few inches left to where he pointed. 

He had his constellation map unfolded on his lap. She was placing the final star of Leo.   With the help of his sister and under his direction, his ceiling and walls became a map of the stars. They only had room for his favorites though, Virgo was by his closet, Orion above his bed, Ursa Major by his door and Aries next to Leo adjacent to his desk. Jazz snagged three from the box and said it was about time Sam, Tucker and her had a fool-proof way to tell if he was sneaking into their rooms. Bed-ridden as he was at the time, there was little he could do but let it go. It would be harder to prank his friends sure, but it made him feel better. His friends had a “ghost sense” of their own in the form of a little star stuck to the wall in their rooms. 

The memory felt warm in his chest as he stared up at the faintly glowing stars. He spun his chair in circles, stopping only when he felt dizzy. The stars glowed far brighter when he was Phantom or he used his powers, but all it took was a little practice and he learned how to brighten and dim them however much he wanted.    

The buzzing of his phone inside his pocket pulled him from his thoughts. At first, he thought it was just a message in the groupchat—Tucker sharing a meme or something. But it kept going; a call, then. Danny reached into his pocket and pulled it out. The screen was lit up with an in-coming call from “Know-it-All”. Danny smiled. Think of the Devil and she shall appear. He accepted the call, putting it up to his ear. 

“Sup, Harvard.”

“Danny!” Her voice was warm and full of life. She sounded happy. “I wanted to call and see how my baby brother was doing.” 

Danny snorted. “Oh you know, same ol’, same ol’.” He got up and closed his bedroom door. The line was quiet for a second. 

“You sound tired, Danny. Have you been sleeping? Before I left, we had a talk specifically about the detriments to health caused by a lack of sleep.”

Danny plopped back into his desk chair and gave it a spin. “Jeez, Jazz. Chill out, I know.” 

“Knowing and doing are two different things, Danny.” 

He couldn’t fault her for caring. It was nice. In an annoying sister way. Still, discomfort prickled over his skin whenever people worried about him. He was fine.

“What about you? All settled into the big college life?”

Her voice went up an octave, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Oh, God, Danny. It’s everything I hoped for and more! The library is huge and there's so much information and so many clubs! Believe it or not, there’s actually a ghost and paranormal science club.” 

“Did you join it?” 

“You kidding? You’re talking to the new vice president, mister.”

Danny chuckled. “Coulda guessed. How’s your roommate? She hasn’t tried to kill you yet, has she?” Danny pushed on the floor to continue the chair’s turning.

“Why, pray tell, dear brother, would she want to kill me?”

“I don’t know, prolly ‘cause you’re like the most annoying person ever.” Over the past two years Jazz and him had really “grown and moved past the hurt feelings”. That's how she phrased it, anyway.

“Meeean! Come on, I’m not that bad.” 

“Okay, agree to disagree. Have you psychoanalyzed her yet?”

“Danny!” She chided. “I can’t believe you!” She was silent for a second. “Of course I have. Abandonment issues and most likely an anxiety disorder.” 

Danny’s laugh came easy this time. Same old Jazz. He hoped she never changed. 

“Damn, sounds serious, have you recommended that she get help yet?” 

Jazz giggled. “I do have some tact, you know. I’m going to wait until we’ve known each other at least a month for that.”

“Totally, don’t wanna scare her off too soon.” 

“Exactly!” 

The line dipped down into a staticky silence. Jazz cleared her throat. 

“What about you? Any new friends added to your trio to take my place?” 

“Psh, now you really do sound crazy.” 

“Danny I mean it! Having a support network is really important, and don’t get me wrong Sam and Tucker are great, but they can only do so much.” 

“Like anyone in that place would ever be seen with me in broad daylight unless they have to.” 

Jazz sighed. It was her “disappointed”/“you have to grow up someday” sigh. 

Danny pushed a hand through his hair. “Listen, if it makes you feel any better I have made a new mortal enemy. So I’m feeling pretty good about that, a lot of potential there.”

“Danny, why on earth would that make me feel better?” 

“I dunno, because I’m gaining life experience? Well, half-life experience. Heh.” 

“I just don’t know what to do with you.” Danny could hear the smile in her voice. “So, how’d you make this new enemy?” 

Danny groaned. He dropped his leg and caught the ground with his foot, the residual momentum of the chair tugging at him in protest. He stood and took the two steps to his bed. Danny let himself fall onto the mattress. His sheets smelled like fabric softener, and a mix of warm smells that he could only describe as “sleep”. 

“We’re lab partners in chemistry. He’s some jock B-lister guy and he hates me.”

“Why do you say that?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, could be the fact that he marched up and called me an asshole right to my face today, or that from day one he saw how everyone else treated me and decided to jump on the bandwagon.” 

Jazz made a small sympathetic sound. “Oh, Danny, I’m sorry.” 

Danny pressed his face into his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. The last thing he wanted was pity. Especially from Jazz. He was fine. Really, this was no different to any other year. 

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, lifting his head from his pillow. “It’s not like I suddenly care what people think. Guy’s just a dick.” 

Before Jazz answered, the sound of someone talking to her filtered through. Danny couldn’t quite make out what was being said. 

“No, it’s fine. I’ll walk with you,” Jazz said, her voice muffled. Her voice returned: “My roommate just got back, I’ve gotta go, but we’re not done talking about this, alright?” 

They absolutely were. 

“Yeah, Jazz. Have fun going wherever you’re going.” 

“We’re walking down to get dinner. Which, speaking of! Make sure to eat dinner, okay? I love you.” 

“Ew.” 

“ Danny. ” 

“Uuuughhh. Okay, fine, I… I love you too.” 

She laughed, the line beeped, and then she was gone. It left an empty space in the room, in the house. Danny was no stranger to cold, it was part of him. But the past month had been a different kind of numbing ice. The sight of her door left sitting ajar at the end of the hall, knowing there was nothing but a dark lifeless room concealed within. It was an echo, a ghost in it’s own right. An unyielding wall and even he had no way through. He thought he’d be glad to get her out of his hair. He didn’t expect the jagged and torn space she’d left behind. 

Danny wasn’t used to missing anyone but himself. 

He pushed out a breath, and rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyelids. He didn’t want to think about it. 

Danny left his phone on his bed, and went down to see what Mom was making for dinner. 

***

Danny stared up at the ceiling. The ecto-stars, as Sam called them, shed a constant soft green from their places in a sea of black above him. Ghosts loved three AM, for whatever reason it was always the time they liked to attack. Then again, there wasn’t really a sense of time in the Ghost Zone, so it made sense that attacks happened at any time. 

But tonight was quiet. There had been no chill up his spine, no ghost sense to pull him from the emptiness of sleep. So he was just staring, trying his best to not think about what happened at school. If Sam and Tucker would have been around maybe he wouldn’t have lost it like that... Or maybe he would have and he’d have had to deal with the worry saturating their expressions, the fear on the edges of their words. Fear that they couldn’t help him, couldn’t save him. They would have made him come home, called Jazz and told her about what happened. 

His sister doubling as his therapist was a conflict of interest, but he didn’t dare tell her he felt that way. She was just trying to help, to be useful. They all were.

Tossing and turning, fighting his covers, flipping his pillow around to the cool side—nothing helped. He checked the time. 3:29. 

Great. 

Frustration ate away at him as the minutes pressed on, unforgiving and slow. It was torture, listening to his own sluggish heart beat. He was sweating, the back of his pajama shirt stuck to his damp skin. His room didn’t feel as cold as it normally did. 

He laid there until he felt like punching something. That’s when he flung his covers aside with a growl. He forced himself up and trudged over to his door, leaving his room. He closed his door behind him, figuring he’d just phase back in whenever he’d decided to give sleeping another shot. 

He meandered to the bathroom, rubbing a hand over his face. The door creaked gently as he pushed it open. He didn’t flip on the light. The ambient brightness from the night light down the hall was more than enough. Another perk to being half-ghost: extraordinary night vision.

The water hissed as he turned it on and he cupped his hands underneath the cold stream. He splashed the water into his face, the sensation jarring him from his frustration and demanding his full attention. The water overflowed from his hands and ran in trails down the backs of his hands, following the downward slope of his forearms and dripping off his elbows. 

He looked up at his reflection in the mirror. Rivulets of water dripped off his eyebrows and ran down over his flushed cheeks like tears. His hair stuck out at odd angles—a mess from not bothering to dry it before he went to bed. He raked his fingers through it, trying to get it to sit normally and not hang in his eyes. His bangs stuck to his forehead and against his temples,  whether it was slick with water or sweat at this point he didn’t know. 

He leaned forward against the sink, examining the dark bags underneath his eyes. He looked about how he felt. 

Shitty. Real shitty. 

He yanked a fluffy hand towel down from the hook and pressed it to his face, dabbing off the water. He dried his hands next, then started to wipe his forearms. He dragged the towel over the skin of his right arm and moved to do the same to his left before he froze mid-way. His eyes were fixed to the usually covered skin of his forearm. 

He could see them, he realized belatedly. 

The wandering forked scars that snaked up his arm. 

He set the towel down slowly and reached over to run his fingertips over them, entranced. The raised, ugly skin detailed the exact path the electricity had taken as it tore through his body. A single second in time tattooed permanently on his skin. The scars were lighter— a bit less visible in his human form as opposed to when he was Phantom. But still there nonetheless.

His breath stuck in his throat. The air was sticky. His stomach clenched and a wave of dizziness crashed through him. The room spun at the edges of his peripheral vision and he felt like he was being shoved through the Fenton Ghost Catcher. Like he was overshadowing himself, and as he pulled away he was forgetting what it was to occupy a body.

A pervasive numbness took up the space he’d previously been a part of. There was a soft pillowy comfort in the disconnect. He blinked down owlishly at his arm, like it wasn’t his and he didn’t recognize it. His hand moved and he traced the scar, up and down, faintly aware of the memories banging at the back of his consciousness like someone trapped under ice. It was muffled and distorted, the sound of someone screaming and a dryness in his throat. 

Seeing them— the scars— It… It…

A deafening crack filled his head and his vision went white. The pain seared through him, consuming every nerve in its path. His heart seized in his chest, held hostage to the electricity overriding the signals of his brain. It was tearing him apart—It was hurting him—killing him, killing him, killing him . 

Danny stumbled back, his back slamming into the wall and snapping him back into the present moment. His chest was heaving, his throat tight. His hands trembled and his eyes darted down. He half expected to see the cold steel of the lab’s floor underneath his feet and feel Sam’s hands slip through his vaporous form. 

His heart beat so hard it hurt. With every pound it felt like needles were being pushed through his skin from the inside out. It ached, raw and unable to ignore. Zings of faint electricity zipped up his arm and across his chest.  

Danny’s knees shook and he slid down the wall. He choked back something that felt like a sob and he kicked the bathroom door closed before pulling his knees up to his chest. 

Fuck, fuck , fuck!

Why the fuck did he do that? He knew better than to look, to linger on anything that—  

Fuck. 

He felt hot, like he was burning up on the inside. Shaking, he tried to reach for his core, to offer a path for the energy to flow. He wanted it to be cold, it had to be cold. The cold felt nice, the cold was safe. Cold didn’t burn or thrash, it was slow and steady and everything the electricity wasn’t. 

He tried to coax the cold forward, convince the space around him to change with nothing more than his own will. It hurt, it felt like dragging himself through broken glass trying to get the phantom pains to fade into cool relief. 

He huddled against the wall, twisting his fingers into the fabric of his sweatpants. His eyes stung and the breath in his throat stuttered painfully on every inhale. 

The worst part of it was he had no one to blame but himself. 

People at school assumed his switch to hoodies and long sleeve shirts was because Sam had finally gotten to him and turned him goth. The truth was: he hid his scars the way any other kid did. 

He waited until the pain felt dull and distant and the air felt sharp. He tipped his head back, tired eyes roaming across the bathroom before landing on the frosted over mirror. 

Two breakdowns in one day, huh? Not his personal record by any means, but it had been several months since he’d had one... So. That had to count for something, right? 

Slowly, carefully, he started to reign back the cold in the room. When he stopped shaking, he pulled himself to his feet, a hand against the wall for support in case his knees buckled. He didn’t wanna be in the bathroom anymore, it felt too small and confined. Danny had figured out one too many times in the Fenton thermos had a tendency to cause claustrophobia.  

He opened the door and shuffled out into the hall, the cuffs of his sweatpants whispering across the carpet. His thoughts carried him past his room. Maybe a snack would help, or going for a quick flight around town.

He was debating it, when another idea murmured from the back of his mind. He started down the stairs, floating over a few of the steps that he knew creaked. The house was silent, his parents asleep. He walked through the dark living room, then the kitchen, bare feet padding over the cold tile. 

He found himself at the top of the stairs, staring down into the dark basement. It was funny, basements were supposed to be scary. It was like his parents heard that and had to one up everyone else. “Oh, you have a basement where the light flickers and rusty nails poke up from the floorboards? Creepy! We have a portal to the literal dimension of the dead and ghosts crawl out about every twelve hours!” Hollywood would have a field day with their family if they heard about Amity Park.

Danny walked down the stairs, the metal cool and familiar. The lab was dark, the control terminal against the wall the only light. 

The portal was closed. 

He stood in the center of the lab, looking at the imposing octagonal outline in the dark. Even after so long, it still inspired wonder in some deep part of him. It made him feel like a kid. 

He walked up to the control terminal, pressing his thumb into the biometric security pad. With a whirr the security system accepted his input and with a heavy mechanical sound the portal doors slid open. 

Green light flooded into the lab, bathing every surface in its shifting toxicity. Danny took a few steps back, taking in the portal and its marbled surface. He looked at it like he was indulging, doing something he shouldn’t. 

The spike of ecto-energy in the room was almost palpable. He could feel it buzzing against his skin, floating in the air like static electricity. 

Carefully, Danny lowered himself to the floor and sat down. He sat and basked in the light of the portal, the hum, the lurching and swirling. 

Visiting a gravesite was a sacred thing, it was someone’s place of eternal rest. 

But ghosts proved that not everyone was at rest. Danny certainly wasn’t, but that was pretty evident, he was still technically living after all.  

Whenever he felt… disconnected like earlier, he liked to come down and visit the portal. It helped remind him exactly who he was. What he was. 

It was like a tether, a point of reference. It was grounding for Danny; as much a reminder he was alive as he was dead.

The portal killed him... but it also brought him back. 

The Phantom part of him saved his life. He wondered if that’s why his obsession was what it was; saving others because he wouldn’t wish the experience of death on anyone. It was both his obsession and his responsibility. He was the reason the portal worked, and he’d be damned if anyone else paid with their life for his mistake. 

Sam still blamed herself. How could she not? He could see it in her eyes when she looked at him, the guilt squirming in their depths. 

But he didn’t blame her, and he figured as long as it stayed that way, eventually Sam would forgive herself. 

If anything, he blamed himself for being curious, for being the son of the Fentons, for every time someone got hurt on his watch.

Danny watched the mirage of the portal, finding shapes in the swirls like a child looking at clouds.

He did it until his eyelids grew heavy, and he felt the tension in his shoulders slowly bleeding away. 

Too lazy to walk, he floated up through the ceiling and into his bedroom. The stars brightened at his proximity, before dimming again when he stopped using his powers. He crawled back into bed and shut his eyes. Sleep came to him gently, pulling him down, and down and down...

Chapter Text

The black and white dashed pavement was all Wes saw. It moved underneath his clumsy feet in slow motion. 

Someone was holding his hand; he could feel the heat of their palm enveloping his. His hand was small in theirs. His shoulders were heavy, weighed down by a backpack. 

He wrung the padded red strap with his free hand. The person leading him tugged him along after them, insistent, but not unkind. When he looked up, he couldn’t see who it was. The sun was too bright, glinting in his eyes and allowing nothing but the dark impression of a silhouette. 

He had to get home, Wes remembered faintly. They had to get home or they’d be in trouble. An odd feeling crept up his legs, and he stumbled over an untied shoelace. The person with him made sure he didn’t fall, pulling up on his arm. 

“Silly Wesley, I thought you said you knew how to tie your shoes?” The person said. Their voice sounded muffled, like he was underwater. It sounded… familiar. Somehow. Like Wes should recognize it. 

They kept walking across the street, the far side growing no closer.

Wes swallowed, his throat dry. 

“Something’s wrong,” he said. His tongue felt clumsy in his mouth. He tried to look up at the person guiding him. They weren’t looking at him, and the sun drove his gaze away again. He looked back at the road, then over his shoulder where the blurry shape of school became more distant with every step.

 “Please listen to me this time, something isn’t right,” he tried again. His voice was small in his throat. His chaperone ignored him, or maybe they just couldn’t hear him. 

Cold panic seeped into him and he tried to resist against the person guiding him. He dug his heels into the rough hot pavement. He twisted and pulled at his hand, gripping the person's wrist in hopes he could slow them down. 

“It’s okay, Wessie! Your friends will be there when you come back,” came the voice, happy and completely oblivious. “I know it’s sad, but you’ll see your friends again, you’ll see.” 

“No,” he protested, the fear condensing into a lump in his throat. “No, we can’t keep going.” He didn’t know why. He just knew they had to stop. 

They had to stop before it happened. 

It ached deep in his bones, the dread and the sirens. His vision swirled and he blinked furiously against the tears. 

“Please,” he pleaded. “Please, stop, you have to.” He yanked on them, but they showed no sign of being inconvenienced. A wail rose in his throat. 

Why were they not listening?

“Maybe your Mom will let us have some fruit snacks when we get there, how’s that sound?” 

And then it was too late. 

His guardian gasped, and yanked him back. It sent a painful jolt through his arm. He stumbled backwards and hit the ground so hard it rattled his brain. 

The sound he could never push from his memories filled the world. The squeal of tires and a wet crunch. A squeal: high pitched and girlish. The solid thunk and crack of a body hitting the pavement, skidding and rolling and breaking and—

Wes sat bolt upright, strangling back a scream. 

Panic tingled over his skin and he clutched at his chest, fingers curling into the cotton of his nightshirt. His breath came in rapid gulps and his eyes darted around his room. Like he was expecting to see— 

He screwed his eyes shut and bit into his bottom lip until he tasted blood. God… He hadn’t had one that bad— that vivid in a long time. He focused on the beat of his heart for several long seconds, forcing his breathing to slow. 

God. He hated nightmares. 

He opened his eyes, taking in the dimly illuminated shapes of his dresser, desk and footboard. His curtains were drawn, and the weak light of morning tried in vain to worm it’s way into the room from behind the fabric. 

Wes reached for his phone on his bedside table. He unplugged it from the charger and winced against the light of the screen, 6:31 a.m. Friday. 

They’d had the last two days off from school due to damages to the plumbing system, but apparently it was all fixed up because school hadn’t been cancelled today. 

After that, going back to sleep was a lost cause. 

He shook his head and peeled his covers back. Might as well get an early start on getting ready for school. With a yawn he opened his door and glanced down the hall. 

Kyle’s door wasn’t open yet, which wasn’t surprising. Kyle was late most mornings; he liked sleeping in about as much as he liked weed… he slept in so much because of the weed more specifically. 

The house was chilly and quiet. 

That was until Wes heard footsteps and the sounds of drawers opening and closing in the kitchen. 

His right hand slid along the guide rail, the polished wood still smelling of lemon. Reaching the bottom of the stairs he poked his head around the corner of the wall and into the kitchen. He blinked. 

It was his dad. He was standing at the toaster, a butter knife held in his hand. Neatly ironed suit already on. 

Wes walked in without announcing himself and went to the cupboard. His dad jumped, catching a glimpse of him over his shoulder. 

“Oh, Wesley.” He cleared his throat and shifted towards him. “You’re up early.” 

“Yep.” 

He got a box of cereal and closed the cupboard. He turned his back to his father to get a clean bowl. 

“Right. Uhm. Did you… want toast?”

Wes nudged the cupboard door closed with an elbow. 

“No, I don’t want toast.” He put his bowl on the dining table and filled it with cereal. His dad watched him. 

“There’s eggs in the fridge too if you—” 

“Dad, it’s fine.” Wes didn’t look at him, and put the cereal box away. He got the jug of milk from the fridge and poured it over the sugary monstrosity that had the audacity to call itself a balanced breakfast. Other than the sound of the milk glugging, the kitchen was tense and silent. Wes screwed the cap back on the milk and put it back in the fridge, getting a spoon next from the silverware drawer. 

The toaster popped, and his dad startled. 

Under different circumstances Wes might have laughed. 

He pulled out a seat at the table, its legs scraping over the hardwood floor. He sank down into the cold chair and started eating. He pulled his phone out from his sweatpant pocket and scrolled without really paying attention to the images and text that slid past. 

“Aren’t you late for work or something?” he said. His dad stopped scraping the butter on his toast. 

“Now that I’m finally settled into the office a bit more I don’t have to be in till seven.” 

Wes clicked his tongue. “Oh. Joy.” He shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. His dad sighed, and he could see his shoulders slump out of the corner of his eye. 

“Your uh, tryouts are today, right?” 

“Why’s it matter? Not like you ever have time to come to my games anyway.” He said it hoping it would hurt. It was childish, Wes knew it was, but he just wanted his dad to get it for once.

“Wesley, kiddo... I know this has been hard on you and your brother—” Wes snorted. His dad pressed on. “But this job was an amazing opportunity, I really think it could do a lot of good for us.” 

“We were fine with the job you had.”

“I thought a change of environment would help after everything that happened. I’m only doing what’s best for the two of you. For all of us, as a family.”

Wes laughed. It was empty and brittle. 

“Well, that’s news to me. We’re hardly even a family anymore.” 

“Wesley,” his Dad’s voice took on a stern edge. 

“You didn’t care about us, if you did you would have asked what we wanted.” 

“And this is exactly why I didn’t.” His dad gestured jerkily towards him with the butter knife.

“What’s that mean?” Wes slapped his phone down and glared up at his dad.

“It’s clear that you’re still too immature to deal with this like an adult. I’m doing this with your futures in mind, Wesley.” 

“By ripping us away from home? From all our friends? From Grandma and Grandpa? Uncle Ronnie?” Wes’ heart was thumping in his ears and he wanted to scream, flip the table over, something to make the pressure in his chest go away. 

His dad scoffed. 

“Don’t raise your voice at me. I told you when we moved that we would visit for the holidays.” 

“That just makes it all better. Doesn’t it?” he pushed through grit teeth. He squeezed the handle of his spoon in his fist, the cool metal pressing indentions into his skin. 

“The world doesn’t revolve around you and what you want. It’s no one's fault but your own that you’re choosing to learn it the hard way.” 

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite.” 

“Wesley!” his dad snapped. “One thing you won’t do is speak to me like that under my roof, you understand me?”

Wes held his dad’s gaze, not backing down.

“After tryouts you come right home and stay here for the weekend.” 

“What? Seriously?!” 

“Yes, seriously.”

Rage whirled in his throat and he bit down on his tongue. He stood up, his chair skidding backwards. Fucking bullshit. It was fucking bullshit . 

He threw his spoon down onto the table. It clattered and bounced off the side of his bowl. He snatched his phone and stormed away from the table and back up to his room. He slammed his door behind him and stood there seething, his hands balled into fists. 

He stood there as the seconds ticked by, eyes roaming over his room for something he wouldn’t mind breaking. The buzz of his phone distracted him, and he looked down, turning on the screen.

If it was from Dad he was gonna—

Alien Fucker: ? 

Oh. Right. 

It made sense that he’d probably woken up Kyle. He typed a message back into their chat. 

Basketball Freak: Nothing

Alien Fucker: Didn’t sound like nothing 

Basketball Freak: Dad grounded me again 

...

it’s whatever at this point  

Alien Fucker: F in the chat

…

want me to talk to him?  

Basketball Freak: no, its fine 

Alien Fucker: K just lemme know 

Kyle always felt like he had to be the mediator. In the year leading up to the divorce he was the middle man between Mom and Dad, despite Wes telling him that it was ridiculous. Their parents were grown-ass adults. They shouldn’t have fucking needed their seventeen-year-old-son to deliver messages back and forth because they couldn’t stand to talk to each other. And Dad called him immature. 

Kyle hated the tension, he took on the peacekeeper role like a job, trying to hold them all together in vain as the family crumbled around him. Wes probably hadn’t helped any, looking back. 

He picked fights with Dad like it was his job. 

And Mom… He still didn’t talk to Mom. 

He tried to get where Kyle was coming from, he really did. But pretending that shit wasn't fucked wasn’t going to unfuck it. 

Their parents deserved to know what they'd done was wrong. And if hating them was what it took, then goddamnit, Wes was going to do it.  

Wes tossed his phone onto his bed and started getting dressed for school. 

***

The school day passed by uneventful. Mia had the scoop about some couple that had broken up over the two day break that Wes hardly paid attention to. He helped her set her shutter speed and they took pictures of fast moving objects outside. 

At lunch he sat with Kyle and his stoner friends. 

In chemistry Wes got there after Danny. He set his stuff down, scooting his stool away from him. They ignored each other the best they could as people got settled for class. 

 Wes bounced his leg on the stool’s rung and kept an eye on the clock. Two more classes until tryouts. 

Mrs. Merriweather erased the notes on the board from last class and once the bell rang her iron gaze flicked over the class to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be. 

“Once I take roll, you’ll work on writing your findings from the last lab in a short essay.” An unenthused murmur filtered through the class. Wes glanced sideways to see Danny grimacing. 

Hah. Served him right. 

“Mr. Fenton. You can make up for your absence last class in an hour's detention after school today.”

Some of their classmates turned to look at Danny, half smiles and shared glances. Nothing was more unifying in a classroom than someone who wasn't you getting in trouble. 

Danny hunched his shoulders and sighed.

“Yes, Mrs. Merriweather,” he said.     

Sucked for him, but really, what did he expect? Skipping class was a risk he decided to take. 

Wes used his notes from the lab he’d done by himself , and started writing his short essay. The class quieted and the only sound was the occasional whisper and the shuffle of papers. 

Danny was quiet, fiddling with a pencil and looking at his phone under the table when Mrs. Merriweather wasn’t watching. Wes couldn’t tell who Danny was messaging, but if he had to guess it’d be the other two-thirds of his friend group. Eventually, Danny pulled out papers from a beat up binder and started working on it. From the corner of his eye he’d guess it was history homework.  

All Wes cared about was that Danny didn’t bother him. He wrote his essay with his mind half on the words and half on the growing excitement of hitting the court. Finally, finally he’d be able to do one of the only things he was good at. The minutes dragged past and around the fiftieth time he’d glanced up at the clock Danny shifted next to him. 

“Dude, chill out, you’re making me nervous,” he said quietly. He didn’t even look up from his homework when he said it. 

Wes lifted his head from his partially done essay and narrowed his eyes. 

“Mind your own business, Fenton.” 

Fenton rolled his eyes but said no more. 

Class wrapped up twenty minutes later, Wes turned in his sloppily written essay and bolted out of the room. The hallways swelled with students as they poured from their classrooms. Econ was all that stood between Wes and tryouts. He swung by his locker, grabbing his books. 

He was about to turn to leave when he bumped into someone. They both stumbled back and Wes recognized the pungent smell coming off the other person. 

“Whoa man, sorry ‘bout that.” Said a guy with blond hair and a beanie slouched over his head. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Wes said, trying to get around him. 

“Hey wait, you’re Wesley, right? Kyle’s lil bro.” 

Well, that explained the smell. 

“Uh, yeah that’s me. Sorry, but I’ve gotta—” 

“Dude, sweet. Name’s Robbie, I’m pretty chill with your brother,” he said. 

“That’s nice. Well, nice to meet you and stuff.” Wes stepped around the stoner and headed towards his class. 

“Yeah, totally! I wasn’t here for lunch but Kyle said you hung out with the group today—” Robbie said, following after Wes. 

He pushed a breath between his teeth. Great, guess this was happening now. 

“—but like Kyle’s told me a lot about you, man.” 

“Cool?” Seriously, why was this guy talking to him? 

“Yeah, I just wanted to say the group’s mega on your side.” 

“Uh-huh. Cool.” 

Wait. 

“On my side about what?” Wes slowed his pace.

“The ghosts, bro!” 

“What about them?” 

“Pf, bruh. We’ve lived in Amity Park for like, ever? We’re trying to convince him that this ghost stuff is legit.” 

Wes scoffed. “Good luck with that. I’ve been trying since I was like six .” 

Robbie shook his head. “I know what’cha mean, bro. Dude’s like a steel trap... or however that saying goes.” Robbie shrugged. 

Wes chuckled. “Let me know if you guys make any progress with him,” he said. He’d meant it as a joke, but Robbie nodded seriously. 

“Hell yeah, dude, that’s what’s up. You can count on me.” He held out a closed fist to Wes. 

He rolled his eyes but didn’t hide his grin. He fist bumped Robbie. 

“Okay, well… I’m going to class now.” 

Robbie held up his hands. “Oh, yeah, totes. I should probably do that too, now that I think about it.”

“Probably.” 

Robbie turned and walked away in the opposite direction, a single textbook swinging in his grasp. Kyle’s friends were always friendly. Even if they were a bit annoying. 

Wes was almost late for Econ, thanks to the fact the class was on the other side of the building. He slipped into the room and sat down, letting out a breath when the last bell rang thirty seconds later. 

Mr. Brown took his place at the front of the class, voice as monotonous as ever. His button-up was wrinkled around his midsection, and he ran his hands over it like that would help.

“Alright class, we’re going to start talking about the stock market today.” He said, pulling up Google on the projector.    

Wes hardly absorbed a word from Mr. Brown’s lecture, which was a total snooze-fest. The stock market wasn’t exactly riveting stuff. He bounced his leg under his desk, watching the clock.

Mr. Brown was in the middle of describing the homework: picking three stocks and tracking their ups and downs through-out the weekend, when the bell rang. Wes had been about ready to start pulling his hair out. 

He shot up from his seat and was first out the door.  

Wes made a beeline for his locker. Or at least he tried. He got stuck behind kids walking at a snail's pace three times. He got a few dirty looks for pushing past people loitering in their groups. 

Eventually, he made it to his locker and fumbled with the lock. Once open, he stuffed his books and notes anywhere they’d fit. Papers crumpled and his notebook creaseed down the center. He pulled his bag from the hook and slung it over his shoulder. He headed to the locker rooms at a jog, back to bobbing and weaving around people in the halls.  

“Mr. Weston, no running in the halls!” He heard Mr. Lancer call after him as he went past the English room. He slowed down to a power walk, not caring that he looked stupid. 

He got to the locker room and got his gym clothes out. He changed quickly, ripping his shirt off and almost tripping over his jeans. 

There were other guys in the room, some he recognized and others he didn’t. Before he put his phone away he checked it, the screen lighting up. At the very top of the lock screen was a message notification. 

Mom: How was the first week of school?

His fingers tightened around his phone, pushing the blood away from his fingertips and leaving them pale. He stared at it until the screen dimmed. 

He didn’t want to think about it, not now—not at all. He tossed his phone into his bag and zipped it up. 

Out of sight out of mind. 

He locked up the rest of his stuff and left the locker room. He followed a few other guys into the gym. 

The overhead lights reflected in bright streaks on the polished wood floor. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the smell of cleaners and old set in sweat. He scuffed the toe of his sneaker on the floor. The high pitched sound echoed around the room; it felt like home. 

Mrs. Tetslaff was standing by the bleachers, writing something on a clipboard. A few students that looked like freshmen were wheeling out a wire cart heaped with basketballs. 

Wes walked towards Tetslaff, coming to stop a ways away. He shifted from foot to foot in anticipation. Within a minute or two there was a loose ring of guys waiting around. A majority were talking amongst themselves, joking around. Clearly they were last year’s team, bonded by hours of blood, sweat, and tears. Wes was on the outside. He felt a sour twinge in his stomach watching them. He wondered how his old team was doing… None of them had messaged him since he left. Not even Cole or Adam.

“Ay, new kid!” 

Wes turned to see a guy with short black hair and olive brown skin. The guy was a bit taller than him. He came up and clapped Wes on the back so hard it stung his skin. He stumbled forward a bit before catching himself. 

“I hear you played point in Cali.” 

Wes tapped the toe of his shoe against the ground a few times. “Yeah?” 

The guy smiled, dark eyes sparkling. He had a nicely structured face, the stubble on his chin making it a reasonable guess that he was a senior. 

“I’m José. Wesley, right? ” He crossed his arms over his chest. Wes didn’t know if he was intending to show off his biceps or not, but it certainly seemed like he was. “I was point-guard last year, and ain’t no way in hell some lanky California kid is gonna yoink my spot.” 

Wes carefully gaged for any hostility, but there was none. José was all smiles. A friendly challenge? 

“I guess we’ll just see about that, won’t we?” He smirked back. 

Somehow José’s smile got bigger. He laughed, his posture breaking into something more casual. 

“I like you already, Wesley.” He stuck out his hand for a handshake. Wes obliged. José grabbed his hand without mercy and shook so vigorously Wes thought he’d lose his arm.

“Just ‘Wes’ is fine,” he said with a wince. José released his hand. “Ow,” he muttered, shaking his hand out. 

“C’mon, you can hang with us, save you the embarrassment of mingling with the Freshmen.” José slung an arm around his shoulders and steered him into the inner circle of guys. He followed, mostly because he didn’t have much of a choice. As they got close the group looked up, varying levels of welcoming. 

“Wes, this is Mark,” he pointed to the dude the farthest from them. He was shorter than Wes, long brown hair tied behind his head. 

“‘Sup.” 

“Next we got Joseph.” José motioned to a guy with terrible posture, it made it hard to tell how tall he was. He looked familiar and it took a few seconds for the light bulb to come on. It clicked and Wes remembered he had Homeroom with him. “We just call him Jo or Joey though.” The guy in question threw up a peace sign. He had light grey hair, obviously the product of a good chunk of money and some bleach. 

Now that Wes thought of it, living in Amity Park, it was weird how many people didn’t have crazy bleached or dyed hair. Maybe it was more of a west coast thing? Or Amity was just behind on the times. Probably both.  

“This is Anthony,” José moved to the next guy. He was about Wes’ height and he had neatly cut and styled almond brown hair. He looked like he belonged in a boy band. His eyes were hazel green, and he looked Wes up and down. 

“Hey,” was all he said. Wes tried not to stare too long as José moved on. 

“Last but not least we got our boy Isaac.” He had black hair, shaved on the sides and longer on top with loose curls. He had dark skin like José. Isaac pointed finger guns at him. 

“Yo, man, pleasure to meet ya,” he said. He had more of a detectable latin accent than José.   

José broke away from Wes to clap hands with Isaac and pull him into a one armed hug. 

“This here our inner circle, Joey and Mark are Juniors like you, but the rest of us ’re Seniors.” 

“It’s nice to meet all you guys, God, you don’t know how long it feels like I’ve waited for today,” he said. He rubbed his upper arm.  

“I just hope you ain’t rusty. I heard you got game.” Isaac said.

Wes shrugged a shoulder. “I mean…” 

“Humble,” José nodded. “I like that about you, Wes. I’m ‘bouta smoke you, make sure you stay that way.” 

The rest of the group let out a chorus of “oh”s. The gauntlet had officially been thrown down in front of witnesses. Wes didn’t fight his smile as he sank into the familiar feeling. 

“Cool, dude. Just don’t cry when I dunk on your ass, okay?” 

The group oh’d louder this time. 

“Dammnn, new kid! You got spunk, never would have guessed from class,” Joseph laughed. “Seriously, in Homeroom he never talks to anyone,” he told the rest of the group. 

“Hey, no judgment, Anthony’s been needing another introvert to keep him company.” Mark grabbed Anthony by the shoulders and gave him a rattle. 

Anthony waved him off. “Shut up.” 

The sound of a whistle pierced through the gym. They all cringed and turned to look at the source of the noise.

Mrs. Testlaff had her hands on her hips. 

“What’re you all waiting around for? You know the drill, warm-ups first.” She clapped a palm against the back of her clipboard. Her voice boomed through the gym.  “Two laps around the gym, go!” 

***

The amount of drills they did had to be criminal. Wes’ muscles burned and his hair was spiked with sweat and water from the fountain down the hall. He’d forgotten his water bottle at home, which he wholeheartedly blamed on his dad.  

It took a while, shaking off the rust and sinking back into his comfort zone. It felt like the court snapped into focus and all that mattered was the squeak of shoes and the fleeting touch of the ball against the curve of his palm. His body moved the exact way he wanted it to. He spun and dodged, nailed three point shots more often than not, felt like he was riding a high.

They practiced individual skills before they moved onto mock games. José was no joke. He moved like he could read the offence’s mind. It was frustrating and exhilarating at the same time. 

The group’s synchronicity of their plays made their history together obvious. 

The practice games were intense and competitive. For every layup and three pointer Wes scored, José would score the same. The others weren’t pushovers either. Isaac would shut him out with a shit-eating grin and Anthony was way faster than he looked. 

José blew past his sophomore defender and jumped, slamming the ball through the basket and holding onto the rim for a few seconds before he dropped. He bounced into a jog, whooping in triumph. Isaac and Mark high-fived him while Joseph and Anthony, who were on Wes’s side, groaned.

Mrs. Tetslaff blew the whistle and everyone stopped, turning towards her. 

“Alright, gentlemen, good job today. Take a five minute break. Go get some water and then we’ll move into cool downs.” 

Wes sighed, his shoulders sagging. Admittedly, he was tired, but he didn’t want to stop. His new friend group walked towards the corner of the gym to a bench where they had water bottles and towels. Wes, who had neither, just went for the company. Issac grabbed his shoulder as he neared. 

“Shit, man, you can actually play,” he said, giving him a shake.

“So can you guys,” he breathed. Wes grabbed the hem of his shirt and used it to wipe the sweat off his face. “You didn’t take it easy on me that’s for sure.” 

“Mrs. Tetslaff was impressed, I could tell,” Joseph said, sprawling out on one of the benches. 

“You think so?” Wes glanced back at the stern woman who was in the middle of yelling at a pair of Freshmen across the gym.

“For sure, bro. The way you played you might jus’ make varsity,” José said, smacking the cap of his water bottle closed. 

“‘ Might’ ?” Wes quirked a brow. 

“Homie, yer gonna have to get past us to make varsity,” Isaac pointed out, gesturing to the rest of the guys. Wes blinked, looking at the five of them. 

“Damn, guess you’re right.” 

“It’s okay, you can take Joey’s spot, he won’t miss it,” Mark said, snapping his hand towel at Joseph. He squawked and rolled off the bench onto the floor with a thud. 

“Asshole! And what the hell d’you mean I wouldn’t miss it?” He pushed himself up to glare up at Mark. 

“Bruh, all last season you cared more about flirting with Tiff than showing up to practice on time.” 

Joseph’s cheeks flushed pink. 

“So? I still got better stats than you did. Plus who doesn’t lose track of time when flirting with a cute girl?”

“I dunno, man. Sounds like a straight problem,” Anthony said from Wes’ other side. Wes looked over at him, a little surprised. 

Joseph pushed himself up. “Shut up, Anthony, as if you haven’t been late because you’re flirting with some guy.” 

Anthony snorted. “At this school? Gimme a break.” 

“Whatever, dude, at least I don’t wanna fuck a ghost.” 

That managed to get a reaction out of Anthony. He stiffened, cheeks tinting red. His gaze darted around the ground before his expression hardened.

“If I remember right, Joseph, you retweeted Dash’s ‘Its not gay if he’s dead’ tweet just like everybody else,” he shot back, lifting his chin.

Joseph’s eyes widened. 

Isaac, Mark and José spluttered from behind Joseph. Anthony smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Because it was funny ! It was a meme, dude!”

“No need to get defensive now, it’s okay. You can admit that Phantom made you have a gay awakening.” Anthony had an evil twinkle in his eye, like a shark that’d caught the scent of blood.

“What? Dude, no I— Guys come on, help me out here.” 

Isaac stepped up next to Joseph and threw an arm around him, pulling him closer by his neck. 

“Homie, no cap, I wasn’t bi till I moved here. That probably ain’t no coincidence, know wha’m’sayin’?  

Joseph looked stricken, like he could feel himself losing the argument. 

“Oh come on—what about you, newbie?” 

All eyes turned to Wes and he swallowed. Oh, God. Why were people in Amity so goddamn weird? Attracted? To a ghost? 

“Uhm… I mean. Uh. I’ve only seen him once…” He twisted the toe of his shoe against the ground. “Also he’s technically dead, right? Isn’t that like, messed up?” 

Everyone who wasn’t Joseph just rolled their eyes or puffed out a breath. 

“He’s new, give him a while, he’ll come around,” Isaac said, sharing glances with the guys in support of literally thinking a ghost was hot. Wes tried to hide his bewilderment. He seriously doubted he’d “come around”. What was wrong with these people? 

Joseph shoved himself away from Isaac’s grip and interlocked his arm with Wes’. 

“Fuck you guys, Wes is my new bestfriend now.” 

“Boy, you literally out here with silver hair, who’da fuck you think you foolin?” José said, jabbing a flat hand towards him.

“...Elliot said it’d help me get girls’ numbers,” he said softly, lifting his hands to tend it with a frown.  

“You actually listened to that clown?” Anthony grimaced. 

“Bro, I thought you said you liked it?” 

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” 

“Oof, Anthony hit his word limit, guys.” Mark said. The guys broke into laughter. For the first time since moving to Amity Park, Wes actually didn’t hate being there. 

But because it was in-fact Amity Park, of course that’s when shit went sideways. 

There was an explosion from above them. Wes flinched, whipping around towards the source of the sound. The overhead lights flickered, and debris rained down on the center of the court. There was a gaping hole in the ceiling of the gym, sunlight streaming through. A huge shape flew down through the hole, stopping to float thirty feet up. The being glowed unnaturally and had what looked like a mohawk of green flames. The thing looked around, and then flew straight towards Wes and the group. Wes stumbled back into Isaac, his brain short circuiting.

“What the hell—” 

“Ghost!” someone screamed, and that’s all it took for the gym to descend into chaos. People scattered, fleeing through the nearest exits. 

 But Wes and his new friends had nowhere to go. They all backed up, pushed against each other in the corner.

“ Oh shit ,” José said, voice hushed. “It’s Skulker.” 

“What? Who?” Wes whispered back. 

“Dude, shut up! He’s coming closer,” Joseph hissed, slapping a hand over Wes’ mouth. He didn’t even have time to be pissed about it before the ghost was right on top of them.

It grinned. The air felt heavy and Wes’ heart kicked in his chest. Its body was grey and sleek like metal. Out of all the ghosts that they could have, of course Amity had a fucking cyborg ghost. 

The ghost loomed over them. “Have any of you feeble little humans seen the Ghost Child recently?” Its voice was gruff and low, echoing horribly against Wes’ ears. Its eyes were disks of solid green burning into them as it stared. It was still smiling, jagged metal teeth gleaming in the dim reflected light. 

Wes wanted to say “no”, maybe that would make it leave, but Joey’s hand was still firmly over his mouth. The ghost leaned closer, its glare narrowing. 

“Well? Speak, you sniveling humans,” it growled. 

There was a moment’s silence, then: “recently? No.” 

Wes, along with the rest of the group’s attention snapped over in dismay to Anthony. He looked nonchalant, or would have if not for the rigidness of his arms and the tension in his brow. Their gaze slowly craned back over to the ghost, terrified of its reaction.

But the ghost leaned back, demeanor doing a complete one-eighty. “Huh, you haven’t?” Its eyes went cartoonishly big. He looked at a panel that appeared on the back of his wrist. “My scanners say he’s in the area.” The ghost tapped in the scanner a few times, before he gave up and shrugged. 

“No matter.” The cruel smile spread over its face again. “All I have to do is stir up a bit more trouble and my prey will surely appear.” 

Wes watched in horror as long wicked green blades extended out from the ghost’s arms. It closed the small gap between them, a chuckle building up from its throat—or whatever ghosts had. 

“Why hasn’t someone hit the Ghost Alarm?” Mark whispered. 

“ Shh ,” José snapped. 

Wes swallowed, his mouth going dry and his knees shaking. 

Yeah, he absolutely hated it here again. 

The ghost lifted a blade, resting its tip just above his collarbone. Holy shit, holy shit, holy—

Wes caught the sight of movement from behind the ghost: a flash of black and white. 

“Skulker, leave them alone,” came another echoing voice. Instead of feeling hot and stuffy a chill spread over Wes’ skin as the temperature of the gym dropped. 

The metal ghost spun around, its absence opening up the group's line of sight enough to see none other than Phantom. He was floating some ten feet away, arms crossed over his chest. He paid them no attention, his eyes fully locked on the hulking metal ghost. 

“Oh thank fuck,” Joseph breathed, relaxing enough to release Wes. 

“There you are, Ghost Child,” the cyborg said, sounding pleased. “I was wondering when you’d decide to—” Phantom became a blur. The next thing Wes knew, the huge ghost was sent flying, crashing into a wall on the right side of the gym. 

Phantom was now occupying the space the cyborg ghost had just been. He shook out his hand before curling it back into a fist. “Seriously, how many times do I have to tell you not to drag people into our shit, Skulker?” There was a beat, and Phantom looked over at them, like he’d just remembered they were there in the first place. His eyes flicked over all of them, and Wes couldn’t suppress his shiver when the ghost looked at him. 

“Oh, ‘sup. You guys might wanna, ya’know...” He jerked his head towards the closest exit. And then Phantom was gone, reappearing across the gym. The group didn’t need to be told twice, the next second they were moving. They scrambled out of the corner, practically tripping over one another. 

Wes felt like he was frozen in place. He stared dumbly at where Phantom and the metal ghost were now locked in battle. 

“Dude, what’re you waiting for? Let’s go! ” José said, grabbing Wes by the arm and hauling him towards the doors. 

“Wait—” he objected weakly. His legs felt like jelly as he moved. He wanted to see the fight, see Phantom . He didn’t know why, but something in the back of his mind was screaming at him. 

He had questions.

But his new friends didn’t stop until they’d dragged him out through the metal swinging doors of the gym and into the hallway. The door slowly swung back closed, and Wes caught a glimpse of green bolts streaking like comets through the air and Phantom colliding with the ground. 

Chapter Text

And here Danny thought he was done with getting punishment for the day. He hit the gym floor: hard. 

It made his vision go black for a second. Fucking ow . If he got another concussion he was going to be pissed. At this point he was giving the football players a run for their money.  

His awareness came back to him in spots at first, dancing across his vision, then all at once. Lucky for him—it was just in time to see Skulker firing another volley of ecto-missiles at him. 

Shit .

He curled up and summoned a dome shield. The projectiles exploded on contact one after the other. It deafened the sound for the most part, but he still felt like a fish whose glass bowl was being tapped on. The explosions ceased, green tinted smoke obscuring his sight.

Danny didn’t wait for the dust to settle. He dropped his shield and launched himself straight up at the place he’d last seen Skulker, fist coming into contact with the bottom of Skulker’s chin. The ghost grunted, sailing upward and punching a second hole through the roof of the gym. 

Danny cringed as glass, broken light fixtures, and wood fell down. At least it was the weekend. There’d probably be enough time to patch it up. What was a little more property damage on his record, right? 

Ugh.

“For once you had great timing,” Danny said to the empty room. His legs melded together into his tail and he listened carefully to his surroundings. “If I didn’t know any better, Skulker, I’d almost think you’re stalking me.” There was a beat, before the sound of a net launching from a gun broke the silence. Danny twisted on instinct, narrowly dodging the net. It whooshed past and stuck to the wall behind him.

Skulker returned to visibility. He floated across from Danny, scowling. 

He growled. “Silence, whelp. It’s easier to lure you out when you’re not busy being a prisoner in this human infested place.” 

Well, that was half of it at least.

“Aw, so you do care about my schedule. I’m touched.” Danny pressed the palm of his hand over his core. His tail flicked and he crossed his arms. “But you know that shit you just pulled isn’t going to fly.” 

“Please, Ghost Child,” Skulker sneered. “I was merely toying with those puny humans. I wasn’t going to harm them.” 

“Ever heard of psychological trauma?” Danny dead-panned. He didn’t wait for an answer and fired an ecto-blast straight at Skulker’s chest. It connected with a hollow crack and Skulker let out a shout. He dropped ten feet before catching himself. Danny rushed forward, aiming a kick to the side of his face. 

Skulker held up his arm, blocking the blow with the back of his forearm. The force of the kick resounded against the metal with a clang. 

Danny pulled back out of close range, noting the sizable dent in Skulker’s arm. 

Skulker roared and held up his arm to fire a wrist-ray. Danny strafed to the side, expecting the hot fizzle of an ecto-ray. But nothing happened. 

They both paused, Skulkers eyes narrowing. He inspected his dented arm. 

“Now look what you’ve done, brat.” 

Danny lifted his arms in an exaggerated shrug. 

Skulker held his arm out, attempting to fire the ray again. Nothing. The ghost made a frustrated sound. 

“Here, maybe this’ll help.” Danny’s breath went icy as he shot a jagged spike of ice at Skulker's arm. He watched with giddy satisfaction as the ice punctured and tore a hole through the metal. 

Skulkers arm exploded. 

Danny squinted against the flash of green, going intangible to avoid the metal shrapnel. He blinked the inverted spot from his vision. Skulker’s arm was completely gone, leaving nothing but a jagged hole with wires that stuck out, arcing thin forks of electricity. Danny bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He floated on his stomach, steepling his hands underneath his chin.

“Sucks, man. You never wanna overload a jammed ecto-weapon.” He clicked his tongue three times in a row, shaking his head. “You’d think such a great hunter would know that.” 

“Of course I knew that!” he snapped. “You’ll pay for this, Ghost Child.”  

“Oh no, I’m so terrified,” he said, grin plastered across his face. Man, two days of R&R really did a ghost some good.  

“Insolent whelp,” Skulker said. A mechanical arm extended from his back, unleashing a football-length green rocket that headed straight for Danny. It looked like a homing missile. 

Danny shot upwards out through the bigger of the two holes. He put on the brakes, and skirted to the side just as the missile zipped up past him. He let energy build in his palm. 

The thing about homing missiles was most of them weren’t great with tight turns. The rocket spluttered as it twisted to come straight back down. It made it an easy target. 

He fired an ecto-blast. It exploded on contact in a brilliant sphere of green. Danny phased back down through the roof. The explosion shook the lights, making them flicker more, but it’d been far enough up it didn’t cause any other damage. 

Danny twisted in mid-air and flew at Skulker. His eyes widened and he turned his defenseless side away from Danny, back-peddling. 

He fired an ecto-ray at Skulkers undamaged shoulder. He didn’t pack as much power into it as he could have. He banked, cutting an elliptical circle while holding the ray on target.

“You know, as much as I appreciate the practice, we’ve gotta stop having these here at school.” He didn’t let up on the beam until he’d flanked Skulker. He zipped in while the ghost was still recovering. 

He went with the same roundhouse that Skulker had blocked before. His foot slammed into the side of Skulker’s head, sending the hunter spinning sideways. Danny charged a blast in his palm. He lifted up his left hand and squinted his right eye closed, using his thumb to line up his shot. Who said he was only a show off when people were watching? 

At the moment Skulker stopped tumbling and righted himself, Danny unleashed his blast. It hissed through the air and Skulker had no hope of dodging it. It slammed into the shoulder joint of Skulker's good arm which, already weakened by Danny’s ray, popped off like the limb of a cheap action figure. 

Skulker let out a wordless scream of frustration. 

A smug grin worked its way onto Danny’s face. He was getting too damn good at this, if you asked him. 

Danny closed the gap between them. He grabbed the holes where Skulker's shoulders should have been and somersaulted forward, flipping the ghost over his head. Danny threw him down, directly into a basketball hoop. 

Skulker, of course, being much larger than a basketball, didn’t make it through. Instead, his head wedged into the hoop, his legs churning helplessly in the air. 

Danny spluttered. “Oh my God.” He burst into laughter, wrapping his arms around his stomach. 

“Oh my God, I wish I had my phone. That worked even better than I thought it would, holy shit. ” He dropped a few feet in the air involuntarily.

“Laugh while you can, Ghost Child,” Skulker grunted. He could easily phase out, but he seemed to know when he was defeated.  

Danny leaned back, rotating upside down in the air as he laughed. “Of all times that Sam and Tuck aren't here.” He wiped a tear from under his eye. “Hey— Hey, Skulker.” He flew up to Skulker. 

He glared at Danny through the net. 

“This is what we kids today call getting fucking dunked on.” Danny snorted and descended into more laughter. 

“You’re enjoying this far too much, whelp.” 

Danny held his sides until the hilarity of the visual started to die down. His breathing evened out and the tickle in his chest faded.

“Hey, the amount of times you’ve trapped me in something awful, I think I deserve this.” He sighed, content, his shoulders sagging as a last chuckle left him. “This is exactly what I needed after detention today.” Danny reached for the thermos on his belt. 

“Anyway—” he uncapped the thermos “—same time next week, then?” He pressed the button and the thermos kicked on. He pointed the beam at Skulker, watching as it dragged his warping form into its confines. 

The thermos dimmed and Danny twirled it in his palm, blowing the wisps of smoke from its end. He really needed to empty it when he got home today. 

“What is that? How’d it do that?” 

“Holy F—” Danny jumped. The thermos slipped from his grasp and he fumbled it a few times before he caught it and pulled it back against his chest. He turned towards the voice, shocked to see a familiar face. 

Wesley-fucking-Weston.

He was peeking in through a gap of a gym door.

What the fuck? 

“Uh... How long have you been standing there?”

And how the hell had Danny let a human sneak up on him? Let alone some gangly asshole who didn’t seem to have an ounce of self-preservation in his whole body? 

Wesley hesitated, scanning the gymnasium again. He stepped the rest of the way into the gym. 

“Uhm, for a bit?” 

“Right… and where’s your friends?” Danny slowly floated backwards. 

Why was this dude determined to be up in his business? As afraid as Wesley looked the first day of school, Danny thought he wouldn’t willingly get within a mile of another ghost. Guess he was wrong.

“I ditched them and snuck back into the building,” he said, like it was obvious. “People here at school say you’re a ‘good’ ghost,” he added. Danny’s eyes drifted around the room as he contemplated turning invisible and flying through the roof. 

Was he going somewhere with this or…? 

“Are you?” 

His eyes snapped back down to Wesley. 

He cleared his throat.“Uh. I try to be?” Danny was no stranger to students at Casper approaching him after a fight to try and talk or even flirt with him. He shuddered at the amount of times Paulina or even Dash had asked him to hangout or go get something to eat. 

But this wasn't like those times. Danny hated to admit he was genuinely intrigued, and even impressed by Wesley’s audacity. 

“If you’re unsure enough to be asking, why would you come alone?” He hadn’t meant it to be threatening, but Wesley took half a step back towards the door. He licked his lips. 

“Because I have questions about ghosts.” 

 Danny’s face twisted. He hooked the thermos back on his waist and ran a gloved hand through his hair. “Why ask me? Listen— there’s plenty of people in Amity that know about ghosts. You don’t need to ask a real one.” 

Wesley lifted a hand and rubbed at his temple. “Yeah, but all they ever talk about is you . Either how great you are or how you’re secretly a menace to society.” 

Huh, he must have talked to Valerie. 

“Then what question is important enough you decided to approach a ‘dangerous’ ghost… by yourself ?” 

“I just—I want to know why ghosts here are so different, and who better to ask than an actual ghost? I guess I figured with how much people drool over you that you were the least likely to kill me. I mean you could’ve on the first day if you’d wanted to… There’s obviously some truth to what people say about you.”  

Danny blinked. Okay, that made some sense. But then… 

“Why do you want to know that specifically?” 

Wesley turned his head. “It’s personal.” 

...Alright, sure. 

He let out a long suffering sigh.

“Listen, I hate to disappoint, Person-I’ve-Never-Met-Before, but I haven’t really been outside of Amity Park much…” He knew the answer, of course he did, but he didn’t exactly go around as Phantom spouting off his ghost knowledge. There were things about ecto-biology he knew that only a Fenton would know... and some things only a half-ghost would know.

Wesley looked stricken. It was a weird look on him.

“But you’re still a ghost, can’t you just—” he flexed his hands in front of him like he was trying to grasp something— “make an informed guess?” 

Ugh, God.

Danny dragged a hand down over his face. 

Fine. 

“If I tell you what I think, will you actually get the hell outta dodge the next time there’s a fight?” When people tried to stick around, they were more likely to get caught in the cross-fire. While Danny wasn’t exactly fond of the dude, that didn’t mean he wanted Wesley hurt. The thought of him or anyone getting hurt because of him made him twitch; he ignored the spike of nervous energy that thrashed in his core. 

Wesley looked up at him, blinking green eyes. 

“Wait, that’s it?” 

“I’m dead, dude. What else could I want?” He’d love for Wesley to leave him, Fenton him, alone entirely. But he’d take what he could get.

Wesley faltered. “I dunno.” He muttered something else under his breath, something a  normal human would have missed: “doesn’t make sense why you’d want that either though.” 

Danny shook his head and floated down a bit. “If I had to guess , it’d be because of the portal.” 

“Portal?” 

“Yeah, the Fenton Ghost Portal ?” That at least was common knowledge around Amity now.

Wesley squinted his eyes. 

“You haven't heard of it?” Danny asked, exasperated.

“I don’t know! I’m new here!”

“Clearly.” 

Wesley made a face like he was about to say something stupid. “Okay, sure, there’s a portal. What’s it have to do with ghosts?”

Holy hell. 

Why was he doing this again?

“It’s’a portal directly into the Ghost Zone, dude,” he said incredulously. “Ya’know, The Infinite Realms? Land of the Dead?”

Wesley paled. 

“Wait that’s… How’s that possible?” 

“How should I know? Do I look like a scientist to you?” 

“I mean… Kinda?” He gestured vaguely to Danny’s person. 

He looked down. Oh yeah, hazmat suit. Right. 

Danny wiggled in place. “Not the point, alright? Are you going to keep interrupting me?”

Wesley made a face. “ You’re the one asking me questions!” 

Danny waved a hand, flustered. “Okay, okay, shut up.” God, Wesley was so annoying. “Portals open up naturally all over the world, ‘kay? Well, here in Amity there’s a stable portal that stays open, meaning a constant influx of Ectoplasm. Ectoplasm is an energy source.” 

“Which means...?” 

“I’m getting there.” He twitched his tail. A motion which seemed to confuse Wesley, if his expression was anything to go by.  

“Ghosts are made of ectoplasm, and use it for energy blah, blah.” Danny twirled a hand. “What I’m saying is that here, ghosts have almost constant access to the Ghost Zone and Ectoplasm. It means unlimited energy. Ghosts without access to ecto-energy have to try and build up energy from other ambient sources like electronics, peoples emotions, weather, you name it. It takes forever to build up enough to materialize or interact with humans or solid objects. So ghosts in other places are probably less solid, making sightings and interactions fewer and far between.” Danny blew out a breath. “That answer your question?”  

Wesley was silent for a second, face wrinkled in thought.

“I guess… That makes sense—but—” 

“Cool, glad to help. Well, this has been—something. But I’ve gotta—” Danny started, only to get interrupted when someone burst through the gym door. Wesley jumped, letting out a less than manly yelp. 

It was a basketball player with tan skin and broad shoulders. One of the Seniors if Danny remembered right.

“Jesus Christ, dude, there you are! Do you have a death wish or—” the dude stopped short as his eyes landed on Danny. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “P—Phantom!” He had that deer-in-the-headlights look that people gave him. 

“Hi.” He held up a hand in greeting. “Anyway, I got the ghost, so…” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m just gonna...” 

He went invisible and headed in the direction of the nearest supply closet. He still had to get his stuff before he went home. 

“Imma big fan!” the basketball player called after him into the empty air. He smiled and shook his head as he phased through the wall of the gym.  

Danny was half-way down the hall from the entrance, human once again with his bag heavy on his shoulder, when the doors flung open and two familiar silhouettes filled the entryway. 

Oh no. 

“Everyone outta the way! That ghost won’t know what hit it once we—” His dad’s booming voice stopped when he saw him. 

“Danny?” his mom called. She pushed past his dad and lowered her ecto-weapon. “Sweetie, what are you doing? Are you okay?” She hurried up to him. The surface of her goggles made it impossible for him to see anything but his own reflection. Her voice was tight and gentle as she grabbed him by the chin, turning his face this-way-and-that to suss out any injury. 

Danny silently thanked whatever higher-power might be listening that he didn’t have any bruises on his face. His back was probably another story. He hadn’t stayed in ghost-form long enough to heal it. His backpack hurt everywhere it was in contact with him. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, leaning away and trying to wave her off. Her hand dropped and she gripped him by his shoulder. 

“One of your teachers called and said there was a ghost and the alarm wasn’t working.”

“Oh, that’s crazy. Why didn’t it go off?” 

Dad came up to stand next to his mom, Fenton Bazooka hefted on his shoulder. 

“Don’t know Dann-o, but we intend to find out!” 

“Uhm, I heard stuff coming from the gym a bit ago actually.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Sufferin’ spooks! Come on, Mads, before we miss it!” His dad said and took off down the hall. 

His mom took a few steps to leave before she turned to him. “We’re going to be having a talk about your detention today, so no going to Sam or Tucker’s, alright?” 

He sighed and shoved his left hand in his hoodie pocket. Of course Mrs. Merriweather had called his parents. 

“Fine,” he huffed. 

“Love you, hun!” And then she was off. 

Detention during the first week. His parents must be so proud. He ran his fingers through his hair, digging his fingertips in and messaging his scalp, mussing his hair.

He’d said he’d try harder this year, and he’d meant it. Even though it didn’t feel like it there had been a steady downtick of ghost attacks. Had been since after Pariah Dark and that whole mess. Hell, even the thing with Skulker was more like a game nowadays than it was serious. 

But that didn’t mean all ghosts felt the same way. Especially the ones that popped up now and again to “test their skills on the one who’d bested Pariah Dark in combat”. Those were the worst.   

Danny pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the group chat. 

Dead “Allegedly”: Hey Tuck did u disable the school ghost alarm? 

He wasn’t even at the bottom of the Casper steps when a reply chimed in. 

Hacker (Derogatory): Nah, man. I wish tho 

Emo’s Not Dead: Why? 

Dead “Allegedly”: Just wondering, Skulker showed up and the alarm didn’t work or smth

Hacker (Derogatory): huh, maybe he disabled them? 

Dead “Allegedly”: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

…

My parents know I got detention so I can’t hangout tonight. Didn’t say anything about games tho, Doomed later? 

Emo’s Not Dead: Hell yeah, hope you guys are ready to get owned lmao 

Hacker (Derogatory): Bro, do you even have to ask? I’ve been working on a new loadout and not to brag but it’s pretty sick 

Danny rolled his eyes and put his phone back in his pocket. The Ghost Assault Vehicle was parked up over the curb and onto the grass in front of the school. Dad must’ve drove. He didn’t really want to walk, he needed to make sure he had enough time to sneak into the lab and flush the thermos. 

He walked up to the back of the GAV and pulled the handle. The door unlatched and swung open. Another thing that proved Dad drove. He never remembered to lock the GAV or the Speeder. 

Danny hopped in and tugged the door closed behind him. He reached for his core and the icy transformation washed over him. It eased the ache in his back and he breathed out a sigh of relief. He turned invisible and slipped up through the roof. He turned towards home and started flying. 

The sun hadn’t set yet, and wouldn't for another hour or so, but the shadows were still long. He could feel the sun’s dull warmth through the material of his jumpsuit. The nights were already getting longer and colder. The wind whisked past him with the type of fall chill that cut straight through sweaters and coats. The streets and cars blurred underneath him and a thought bubbled up from the back of his mind. 

He couldn’t remember what it was like to feel cold. 

Not in the human way, the “coming in from outside and sinking into soft blankets with a cup of hot cocoa” kind of way. The negative temperatures of the Far Frozen, of space, hadn’t fazed him since his cryo-core settled.

Like a stone settling in his stomach, he wondered what else he’d start to forget about being fully alive as the years went by. He tried to push the thought into the back of his mind.

The amalgamous shape of the Ops Center glinted in the evening light ahead of him. Danny flew around the side of the building and phased through the wall directly into his bedroom. He tossed his bag towards his desk.

He turned human again a few feet above his bed. He let gravity take hold of him, falling onto the mattress. He bounced a bit before sinking into its surface. His back felt better already. He sighed, wondering if he could get away with a nap before dinner. 

Maybe. Provided a ghost didn’t show up. 

He peeled himself up off the bed and crouched by his bag. He snatched the thermos and headed downstairs. 

The portal hummed, the only noise in the otherwise silent lab. His soft-soled sneakers patted quietly over the metal panel floor. Danny uncapped the thermos and flushed its occupants back into the Ghost Zone. He puffed some hair out of his eyes and closed the now empty thermos. 

Right. Nap. Suffer through the “you need to try harder young man” talk. Then Doomed. It was their second “weekend” this week. He wanted to try and have some fun. After the shitty start to the week he deserved it.  He’d worry about his homework later.  

***

Saturday night brought dark roiling storm clouds that blotted out the stars. The wind howled, stripping orange and red leaves off their branches. The air tasted of rain and stray drops peppered the grey pavement beneath him.

Danny flipped up the hood of his hoodie as he skirted the edge of Amity’s Central Park. Just because he was immune to the cold didn’t mean he liked being rained on. He could stay intangible if he wanted but he was way too lazy for that. 

He flew a languid loop in the air as he changed directions to head towards the mall. It’d been a quiet patrol, nothing out of the ordinary. 

Which, on a night like this, made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. There was a lightning storm building up high in the clouds—which meant more ambient energy. He could feel it the same way he could feel heavy concentrations of ecto-energy. The buzz on his skin, soupy and dense. It tore him in two directions, amped on the energy and nauseous at the feeling of electricity. 

Why couldn’t it have been a snow storm? 

He tucked his gloved hands into the pocket of his hoodie and meandered over the parking lot, careful to fly below the power lines and telephone poles. 

A shiver prickled down his spine and he hiccuped over a cloud of mist. Yep, right on time. He heard distant screams coming from the mall.

He perked up, shooting towards it, the roof of the mall a grey streak. As he got closer he could tell what part of the mall he was headed towards. 

Best Buy. Great. 

Danny heard glass shatter and a stream of floating electronics burst out through the sides and ceiling windows of the mall, a maniacal cackling laugh from above him. 

“Technus,” Danny acknowledged, eyes narrowing. The levitating electronics whisked past him and circled Technus. 

“Oh, yes! It is indeed I, Technus!” he cried. His voice grated on Danny’s ears and he pushed his hood back down with a hand. 

“What’s up? Mad I wiped the floor with your boyfriend on Friday?” Danny grinned, floating up to be eye level with Technus. 

The ghost choked, swallowing his laugh.

“What— I— No! How dare you, Child,” he snapped. The wind whipped past them. “I’m here for my own gain! How dare you insinuate that Skulker and I are anything more than—” 

“Huh, I never mentioned Skulker specifically,” Danny said dumbly, tapping a finger against his chin. 

“Why you— ” Technus lifted a hand and a clump of electronics flew at Danny. He dodged with a laugh. 

“Everyone knows, it’s okay,” Danny called. He forced energy into his hand, flinging a few blasts at Technus. 

The other ghost ducked under one, blocking the other with a wall of technology. He glared at Danny and pulled the machines towards himself. Like pieces to a puzzle, the tech slotted onto his skin, creating a makeshift canon. 

“You know, Child, the capabilities of modern technology grow faster and more powerful by the year.” The cannon whirred, the inside going from black to a glowing green. “Can you guess who that benefits most?” Technus said over the wind. It fired and Danny scrambled to bring up a shield in time. 

 “You’re fast as ever, child, but we’ll see how well you can stand up to a few more!” He fired, this time the ecto-blast hit harder. Hairline cracks appeared in Danny’s shield. 

Uh-oh. 

With a whine the cannon shot again. Danny dove straight for the ground just as it shattered his shield. Technus laughed. 

Okay, so he needed to avoid getting hit by that, holy shit. Danny glared up at Technus. His mind churned, trying to come up with a way to get an opening to use the thermos. If he could just—

A flash of pink streaked through the sky. It struck Technus in the center of his back and he dropped with a scream onto the roof of the mall. The technology, no longer being controlled, started to rain down. 

A red flash and the sound of a jet sled drew Danny’s attention. 

Valerie.

She twisted mid-air, the nose of her board pivoting as she drifted to a stop. 

“Hey, Red!” he called out to her. She turned her head towards him, the eye panel of her mask reflecting his cold glow. 

“Phantom,” she said. It didn’t hold as much of its usual contempt. She must be in a good mood. She also wasn’t shooting at him. He smiled and decided he’d try his luck. 

“How about a truce?” He flew towards her. 

“Why would I do that when you haven’t told me anything about that new ghost?” 

Danny’s shoulders sagged. “I told you already that I don’t know anythinnnnnggg.”

“And I already said I don’t believe you .” 

Danny let his legs fade into his tail and he flew an anxious figure-eight. 

“Come on, Red! It’s Technus!” He stuck his arms out to gesture down to the ghost. “We hate Technus!”

“Hey! I resent that, Ghost Child!” Technus yelled from where he was picking himself up and dusting himself off. 

Danny gestured more insistently. 

Valerie crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot on her sled. “Oh yeah, he brings back such great memories.” 

Oh. Wait. He shouldn’t have— 

“Like that time you almost killed me!” She snapped. 

“ Red , I’ve told you before that I knew—”

“‘—knew it wasn’t me’ blah blah blah.” She opened and closed her hand in a talking motion. “So you say, Ghost .” 

“We can hash it out again later! But can we take care of Technus now please? Because he’s sort of escaping.” 

Valerie looked down to see that Technus was, in fact, fleeing, electronics clumping into a massive platform beneath him as he flew away. She sighed. 

“ Fine, Ghost Boy . Truce.” 

“Yes!” Danny peeled off in a blur, Valerie right behind him. Val was a great ally when he could convince her to team up. He hoped she secretly thought the same of him. 

Valerie was stubborn and could clearly hold a grudge like no other. But over the years, it felt more like she chased him out of obligation. Like she couldn’t admit she might be wrong about him. So she just did what they’d always done. 

Danny didn’t blame her. There was real anger and frustration behind her words when she talked to him, but he’d be stupid not to notice she missed her shots on purpose these days. 

Technus turned and fired his arm cannon at them as they caught up. Danny skirted to the left, rolling into a loose corkscrew, flying underneath Technus’s floating pile of technology and popping up on the ghost’s right. He unleashed a ghost-ray at Technus with so much force it carried him off the makeshift platform. 

The ghost caught himself in flight with a triumphant cackle. It died in his throat as he looked up.

Valerie was right on top of him. A pink blast of ecto-energy hissed through the raging air and into Technus’ arm cannon. The tech burst into pieces, falling in a black heap to the ground. 

“You think that would slow me down, you stupid girl?!” Technus sneered, flying backwards. He sent a ghostly clump of appliances careening into her path. She pulled up at the last second. 

“You children just don’t know when to stop meddling in other people's business, do you?” 

“Nope,” Danny called as he flew by, firing a barrage of ecto-blasts. Technus brought up a shield that deflected them. “Maybe don’t steal shit and trash the mall every two months and I’ll think about it.” 

Valerie came in from the other side, rapid firing with her hand held blaster. Danny flanked him, an ice-ray at the ready. A few shots found their target before Technus moved his shield. He screeched over the wind. 

Technus held out a hand and a crackling ball of electricity built up. It snapped and flickered yellowish green. The sky above them heaved.

Technus held out his hand towards Danny and they locked eyes. 

Danny came to a dead stop in the air. His core stuttered in his chest. Fear, raw and paralyzing, crashed through him like a freight train. For a second he thought he might black out, fall like a stone from the air. They stared at each other. 

He wouldn’t.

Technus knew better. 

He couldn’t.  

With a stunned blink, Technus moved his hand and released the electrical charge far from Danny. It went wide and collided with the mall sign. The sign exploded like it’d been struck by lightning. Plastic and glass flew through the air, and with a terrible creak the pole swayed before falling into the parking lot like a felled tree. It narrowly missed a car.

Danny let out a shaky breath, trying to still the tremble in his hands. It was raining harder now, pinpricks of cold slicking down his hair.

“Phantom, what’re you doing just floating there? Move! ” Valerie said, slowing down just enough to talk before speeding off again. 

Right. He needed to snap out of it.

He shook his head and started flying. Technus was still trying to get away with all his stolen tech. 

Danny let out a slow breath, trying to hold it steady. He reached for the cold and tried to get a lead on Technus. His hand glowed blue as he shot an ice-ray into the clump of electronics. He let out a yelp and wobbled in the air. 

Danny tilted and flew closer to Val.

“Red, keep him distracted, I’ll try and get him in the thermos,” he said, unhooking it from his belt. 

“Don’t tell me what to do, ghost,” she growled. “...but fine. You better get him though. I have my own shit to do.” 

“Would it kill you to use my name once in a while?”

She pointed her blaster at him. 

“Okay! Okay! I get it, sheesh.” He held up a hand and dropped back, letting Valerie move ahead. She went after Technus with no mercy, throwing ghost grenades and raining ecto-blasts down on him. 

 Technus reassembled his cannon, trying to hold his own. He fired at Valerie but she was nimble, avoiding each one. 

“Would you hold still!” Technus snapped, bracing himself against the kick of his ecto-gun. 

Danny grinned and went invisible. Having someone to draw the fire was always useful. He circled Technus, sneaking up behind him, uncapping the thermos as he got close. 

“Hey, tell Skulker I said hi.” Technus whirled around just in time to see the barrel of the thermos illuminate. His eyes stretched wide and an angry noise was all that escaped him as the thermos pulled him in. 

All the technology that Technus had been controlling broke apart and pelted towards the ground. 

Shit. 

He reached out with his powers, catching as much as he could. He winced at the mental strain. He didn’t use his telekinesis for this magnitude of stuff very often. He needed to practice it more, it was still relatively new after all.

 Most, if not all of the technology, was busted, but that didn’t mean he wanted to let it destroy more stuff. He guessed that a refrigerator landing on a car wouldn’t buff out easily. 

He maneuvered the electronics towards the curb in front of the Best Buy, setting it all down as gently as he could. He breathed a sigh of relief and wiped rain from his face with a sleeve. 

“Nice, thanks for the help, Red.” He shot her a smile. 

She holstered her weapon. “You better put that ghost back where it belongs.” 

“I always do,” Danny said. “See ya next time?”

Valerie hummed. “We’ll see.” Danny expected her to jet off, but she lingered. “You mean what you said about that new ghost?” 

Danny folded his legs underneath him and sat in mid-air. 

“Cross my heart hope to die,” he said with a grin.

She groaned. 

“But, yeah. I don’t know what her deal is. She didn’t seem very interested in throwing hands with me, that’s for sure.” 

Valerie held her chin. “Weird... The last few new ghosts have destroyed half the town trying to get to you.” The last bit of her sentence took on a suspicious tone. 

He held up his hands. “Hey, I don’t know either. It’s not like I like getting pounded flat every few months, Red.” 

“Why do they want to fight you specifically?” 

“I don’t know,” he lied with a shrug. He looked up at the clouds, blinking through the rain. “Could be the whole ‘Protector of Amity Park Thing’.”

Val scoffed. “Oh, please.” Danny could imagine that she was rolling her eyes. “So... what? They want to get you out of here to claim Amity for themselves?” 

“Who knows. Probably.”

“Is this where I’m supposed to say how glad I am that we have you instead of one of them?” Her voice was testy, a tone Danny knew well. 

“Your words not mine.” He gave her a lopsided smile, forcing down the discomfort worming through his gut. He should leave before she got too worked up. He had one too many scars from when she’d decided a truce was over.  

“Well, it’s been nice. But we should get out of this rain. We’ll catch our death out here. Hah!” He pointed finger guns at Valerie. 

“Phantom… I’m gonna give you a ten second head start—” 

Danny turned tail and flew, a genuine laugh working it’s way up from his chest.