Danny peeled his sleepy eyes open, taking in the green sky and the floating doors scattered lazily about. For second Danny wondered why he was in the ghost zone, but yesterday's memories came flooding back, as he registered the dull ache in his body. Danny tried to keep the tears at bay but failed miserably. Soon he was sobbing, cold tears dripping down his face and freezing before they could fall.

"W-why couldn't they see that it was me?" He cried uncontrollably. His whole core hurt so much as if someone had ripped a huge chunk out of it, and they had.

Flashback:

BBRRING! BBRRING! BB-

The dented alarm clock was suddenly blasted by green ecto-blast, followed by a sleepy groan.

"Why does school have to be so early in the morning? I mean, come on! Why not 8 o'clock?" Grumbles were heard coming from a pile of blankets on the bed. The blankets shifted to reveal a sleepy Danny Fenton. Bed head and all, raven black hair stuck out wildly. His sleepy thoughts were on the subject of getting to school on time for once. He grimaced when he remembered how his half-finished homework was in the stomach of Cujo, he knew the excuse, and 'A ghost dog ate my homework' would never work in a million years.

He hated it whenever ghosts show up when they felt like it, he swore at one point that they were out to make him lose sleep on purpose, but it seemed that his luck was just that bad. Or that they took shifts or something, that could be it. The bastards loved to fuck with his sleeping schedules. He had stayed up through the night hunting the wimpy box ghost ('How the HELL does he get out of the ghost zone so fast!?' Danny thought.) And had just got into bed 30 minutes ago, with red tired eyes.

He stumbled into his bathroom, hoping a shower would wake him up enough so he wouldn't fall asleep at school. Again. Danny twisted the knob to the hottest it could go. It didn't matter if the temperature was hot or cold since he had an ice core and had a regular body temperature of 32 degrees, but the water was enough to shake him of tiredness. As he passed his mirror he stopped, noticing something.

Danny stifled his scream by biting down on his lips, hard. Gone were his pale blue eyes and in their place were crimson red ones that glowed. Danny stared wide-eyed at himself for a few moments, completely filled with shock that took over his senses.

Tasting iron in his mouth Danny realized he bit though the skin, not surprising as gut-wrenching fear had taken over his body a few seconds ago. He opened his mouth to check the damage and immediately wished he hadn't bothered. Two ivory half-inch long fangs were hanging down from his mouth.

Before he thought about the consequences he screamed as loud as he could. This was loud really loud with his ghostly-wail, proven when the whole house shook and trembled. It wasn't even a split second later when Danny's door banged open, revealing Maddie and Jack Fenton, wearing their usual embarrassing teal and orange HAZMAT suits. They held ecto-guns in their hands as they searched for danger, mainly ghosts.

"Sweetie, Are you oka-?" The words died in her throat as she took in the strange ghost in her son's bathroom, taking on her son's appearance, but she could tell this monster wasn't her baby.

"Where's our son you foul ghost!" His dad shouted angrily, as they pointed their guns.

"I am your son! Just listen to me! There was an accident with the ghost portal, and now I'm a halfa. Half-human, half-ghost!" Danny yelled, tears unknowingly running down his face.

He was tired, confused, and didn't know what was going on with his body. Add the fact that his parents were aiming guns at his face with hate-filled glares, and he was nearing a mental melt-down and wasn't thinking straight enough to give evidence or even a .

"You're not my son! Even if you were somehow my son, you're still just a pile of ecto-plasm! If you won't tell us, we have no for use you, you ghost!" Maddie nearly shrieked voice full of hate and venom. Jack nodded in agreement. They both knew that even if this was their Danny, he was long gone and in his place a monster plotting their demise, good thing they were smart enough to see it.

Danny's heart shattered at their unbelieving eyes, filled with hate and disgust. He had clung onto the thought that his parents would accept him, but their eyes threw that hope away and stomped it into pieces. The sound of the ecto-guns charging snapped Danny out of his shock. Thinking fast he turned intangible and slipped through the floor, but not before getting a lucky shot in the leg and slowing him down.

Pain arched though his body but Danny tried to ignore it. He weakly stumbled to the ghost portal, sure that Clockwork knew what was going on, and could help him. Maybe even take him in for a while. The thought that he could reverse what happened was quick, but Danny pushed it away, knowing he would be unable to ever face his parents again without seeing that look of pure hatred.

He pushed the open button for the door with a small grunt of pain, a moment later he felt searing pain rip through his shoulder. Danny yelped in pain and looked back to see his parents aiming at him, his Dad's gun smoking slightly from the shot he took.

Danny looked into their eyes again, hoping they would at least feel bad for him, but all he saw was this gleam in their eyes. Like they couldn't wait to strap him down to a table, dissect him and take pleasure in his screams of bloody-murder. A gleam that reminded him of ghosts when it came to their obsessions, the very same obsessions that caused them to turn evil and insane just to reach their goals.

Realizing that gleam had always there, even as human when his parents showed him their new weapons, he had just ignored it. Danny sobbed again, core tearing itself apart.

"Stop right there you vile ghost or else!" His Da-no... Jack shouted, no Dad would ever shoot his own son, and no Dad would ever want to place torturing someone above his own son's safety. This wasn't the human-sized teddy bear of a man that gave him bone crunching hugs that he had grown to love.

Danny could almost hear his Mom-no... Maddie telling him to 'Shut up.' or 'Ghosts don't feel pain stop faking it!' as they eagerly ripped out his organs one by one until he breathed his last breath. Put the little pieces of him into little jars and wondered over his anatomy. Danny shuddered and looked away towards the portal.

"Y-you're right... I'm not your son... Not anymore." Danny whispered softly but loudly enough so they could hear.

Reaching inside his core, he transformed. A cooling sensation flowed through him, his monochrome HAZMAT suit replacing his pajamas. Red eyes and fangs still there, but the colors flashing between red, green and blue, making his eyes stand out. Another ecto-blast hit him between the shoulder blades causing Danny to trip and fall right into the portal. The last thing he saw before the door closed were Jack and Maddie's furious faces, angry that Danny had escaped their wraith.

Danny gathered the last of his strength and shot a large ecto-blast at the portal, it blew up. Throwing Danny back and making him tumble in air towards a random direction. His vision blurred and he shook his head of the dizziness and the ringing in his ears. He was trying to stay awake long enough to reach clockwork. 'If any of my enemies find me I'm dead... Well deader.' He thought grimly.

The ghost zone's peace and quiet wrapped around him like it usually did when Danny came here. Its warmth wrapped around him in a comforting embrace, like it was welcoming him home. Before when he was 14 and went into the zone for the first time after the incident it had frightened Danny that he thought like that, like he was abandoning my family, but now he was grateful for the small comfort. Grateful something wasn't against him existing for once.

Danny started to slow down as the pain and restless night caught up to him. He was in a daze, barely realizing he didn't know where he was going anymore, until he crash landed on some kind of building. His whole body was numb with pain and he couldn't even twitch a finger as his eyes glazed over. The pain washed over him in waves. He tried to stay awake, Keyword 'Tried'.

His last thought before darkness filled his vision was, 'What am I going to do?'

End of flashback

"W-why couldn't they see that it was me?" Danny cried uncontrollably.

He took deep breaths and slowly let them out, trying to calm down in order to think straight. Looking at the building he realized it was a library.

'But, who made their lair into a library, again?' The blood loss made him unable to neither think straight nor remember what ghost he had fought with that had a library as a lair.

As soon as Danny thought this the door started to open. His body froze and his mind was screaming for him to run away. Only to realize that he was too weak to even move, let alone fly. So Danny sat there bloodied and broken as the door opened to reveal-

Ghost Writer/Andrew POV:

Running a hand through his pitch black hair, Ghost Writer sighed. He had been looking at the blank screen of his computer trying to come up with something, anything really, to write about. Sometimes writers block really sucked. "I haven't been able to shake myself out of this funk for the past three days. Three days!" Ghost Writer grumbled angrily to himself.

In that time he could have started and finished at two of his rough draft books! Looking at the clock he noticed that it was already two thirty in the afternoon. He had been staring at the screen for hours.

Groaning he shut off his computer because his eyes were hurting and burning. Reaching for his coffee, he took a huge gulp and almost spit-taked at how cold it had gotten. Grimacing, Writer gingerly put back his coffee on the stand the furthest away from his precious books. He got up and stretched, back cracking from being still for so long.

'Hmmm, maybe some warm coffee will help...' He thought to himself, he got up and started for the kitchen to get some more coffee.

Passing the front door he froze, hearing muffled sobs coming from the other side. Leaning closer to put his ear on the door, Writer just barely heard the words "W-why couldn't they see that it was me?" Sounding muffled through the door.

'Crap... Crap, crap, crap! Who the heck is on my front steps, sobbing their heart out no less?!' He thought frantically.

He didn't know what to do. Wait until they flew away, still crying, and never find out who it was? His core panged painfully at the thought. Or... Go out there, see who it was, and try and comfort them in their time of need? 'But I've never comforted anyone in my entire life, or after-life for that matter!' He thought nervously.

'So?! Now's a good time to start! Or do you just want to hide in here eavesdropping on some poor ghost who obviously needs someone to comfort him?!' A snide voice in the back of his head argued. The voice won out when not even a moment later Writer heard another muffled sob.

Gathering his courage, he gripped the door knob and started to open the door. He heard a sharp intake of breath as he opened the door all the way open. 'Well can't back out now...' He thought as the revealed the ghost who needed help. And immediately wished he hadn't.

He took in the scene before him. Ectoplasm covered the stairs to his library home, making Writer want to gag. He was never good with blood in the first place, so why would he be okay with this? His eyes followed the trail of green, halting at piercing ice red of the ghost's eyes.

He took in his appearance snowy white hair, crimson red eyes shifting to green and blue at random, fangs (not unlike his own) poking out adorably in his mouth, a child-like face, and to sum it all up, a ripped jumpsuit that was oddly familiar.

The ghost was shaking pitifully (Probably from the lack of blood, Ghost Writer mused.), and staring at him like he was a cobra posed to strike. He put on an indifferent look and asked, "Who are you?"

The ghost's eyes widened, "You don't recognize me?" He asked in half relief half disappointed. His voice was familiar too...

'Hmmm, where have I heard it before?' His mind started to piece it together.

Writer's eyes widened when he realized why this poor ghost was, "Ghost boy?" He asked cautiously, softly.

His face was all the answer Writer needed. Thoughts all raced through his mind at once 'What happened to him? What am I going to do? Should I help him...? Or should I get that revenge I threatened so much?' His mind halted on that last one. Did he really want revenge? No, not really. In fact now that he thought about it, it was rather cruel.

Looking at his injuries the writer's resolve hardened. He took determined steps towards the teen, and he flinched and closed his eyes, probably thinking Writer was going to end him. This only made Writer's anger at whoever did this to the poor boy stronger. He gently scoped him up in his arms, ignoring the ectoplasm and the halfa's curious stares, and marched into his house/library.

Closing the door behind him, he hurried into the spare bedroom and set the ghost boy on the bed. Writer practically zoomed into the bathroom and got the medical supplies he needed. The ghost boy jumped when he came back, but didn't say a word, still staring at Writer. He sat next to him, causing him to flinch.

"Let me see where your hurt." He said gently. Still staring, he slowly striped off his jumpsuit, gasping in pain the whole time, leaving him in his underwear. He turned around and showed him his shoulder, and Ghost Writer couldn't stifle a gasp at what he saw.

A deep burnt hole around three inches, and other various burns, scars and other things covered his back. The writer's blood boiled and he briefly wondered why, but pushed it down and set to work. Trying to ignore his hisses and whimpers of pain, Writer cleaned and bandaged his wounds. When he was done with his back, Writer made him show him the other wounds on the teen's front.

Writer was equally shocked at the amount of scars that covered him, but like earlier, he ignored it. After he was done he cleaned up the mess of ectoplasm and human blood that covered the room and bed. He tucked the ghost boy under the covers. As he started towards the door he faintly heard a weak voice, "Why are you helping me?" Writer pretended not to hear and continued out.

'Why am I helping him?' He asked himself the same thing. Suddenly, memories of his terrified face looking up at Writer, trying to hide his fear, made Writer's heart seemed to fill with an emotion he couldn't identify.

Danny woke with a strangled gasp. His eyes frantically searched the room for any threats... Or the box ghost. Finding none he relaxed slightly, then tensed up again when he realized that he didn't know where he was, then he remembered what happened. 'Ghostwriter's library?' Danny thought curiously.

Danny wondered why he would help him. Of all ghosts, Danny least expected ghostwriter to swoop in and save him. A bout of nausea hit him, and Danny's stomach flip-flopped. Feeling like he was about to throw up, Danny started to get up to go to the bathroom, but the pain in his body stopped him.

He let a pained whimper escape through gritted teeth, and his eyes watered as he swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. The door opened not a second after he did, and in came Ghost writer. He had something in his hands, and when Danny looked closer, he realized it was a first aid kit.

Writer walked over to his side of the bed and said calmly, "You're awake. Finally, you've been asleep for two days and I was starting to worry about your health. Here, sit up so I can rebandage those wounds and get you something to eat." He said while helping him sit up, Danny let out a pained hiss and he saw Writer give him a sad glance.

Finally upright after what seemed like forever, Danny got into a comfortable position; well, as comfortable as he could. He held still, barely breathing, as Writer unwrapped the bandages. Little gasps of pain escaped him once in an awhile but soon the bloody bandages were off and thrown into the trash. When Writer started to put on the disinfectant, Danny couldn't help but whimper and flinch. Usually he was able to withstand the burning but right now it made the pain ten times worse before fading away.

Writer gave him a sympathizing look, "Are you okay? I can stop for second if you'd like..." Danny shook his head, grit his teeth, and whimpered again when Writer poured more of it into his wounds and on to a piece of cotton.

For a while, the only sound you could hear were Danny's whimpers of pain. Soon, Writer put the disinfectant to the side and unrolled the new bandages and placing the pin between his teeth. Careful not to snap the pin in half. Out of the blue, Writer asked, "What happened to you? Why were you almost dead on my doorstep?" Writer said as he finished rewrapping the bandages.

Danny drew in a sharp breath, and stared at writer, "Do I have t-to?" Danny said in a small, weak voice.

Writer blinked. He had never seen the boy act so broken before, and it unnerved him at the same time made him angry at whoever did this to the poor teen. He had never seen the ghost boy as anything but a cocky teenager strong enough to save the world, a hero to all, and to see him break was a scary thing to see.

'Whatever happened to him must have been serious if he's acting like this', Writer thought before he said, "Yes. I need to know how to treat your wounds and mental health if I'm going to heal you properly." Lame excuse, he knew, but the boy couldn't bottle it up inside right now.

Danny stared at him with sad multicolored eyes, glow dulling as he remembered.

"My parents... Well they used to be my parents" He sniffled, trying not to cry because of the painful memories, "I woke up a few days ago, with red eyes and fangs in my human form, and when I screamed, Mo-Maddie and Jack came running in. As soon as they got a good look of me, they aimed their ecto-guns, and demanded to know what I did with their son. I tried to explain, but they lied and said that I was the one who was lying because I was a ghost. I could tell they were lying because I've lived with them my whole life! I mean you get t-to know someone when you lived with them. But they just t-threw their only son away, because of their own stupidity!" Danny was sobbing into his hands at the end, and he felt his heart was breaking all over again and he could do nothing about it.

Danny had been crying, cold and lonely when suddenly he was wrapped up in the scent of hazelnut coffee and warm arms. He looked up at writer for a second before burying his face in Writer's chest, breathing in his scent. It took everything Writer had not to go to that house and kill those bastards, so instead he had scoped Danny up in into his arms, careful of his injuries, and hugged him gently but firmly as the boy sobbed loudly into his chest.

After a few minutes the tears slowed, "Thank you, Writer..." He whispered voice hoarse from crying.

"Andrew." He looked up to stare at Writer with a blank expression on his face.

"My name. It's Andrew." He stated simply, as Danny tested the name out.

"Andrew." The name rolled off his tongue, and he decided he liked it, a lot.

They stayed like that, blanketed in silence before Danny finally decided to break the silence, "Danny."

"Huh?" Andrew gave him a bemused look and Danny held a chuckle, knowing it would hurt like hell. Really, his whole body hurt already, but he didn't want to hurt Andrew by making him think he was laughing at him. A warm feeling appeared in his chest when he thought about Andrew's name. Weird, what was that? He didn't know. It was a nice change from the ice cold emptiness he'd gotten used to the past few days though, so he wasn't complaining.

"Just returning the favor." Danny said with a watery smile, wiping his tears away.

The full ghost smirked, and rolled his eyes, "Idiot, I know your name."

"You do?" Danny asked with a raised eyebrow, "Funny, everyone calls me everything and anything other than my name." And he meant everything. From the dirtiest swear words to the simplest things like plain saying it wrong.

"That's different." Andrew protested.

"How?"

"We're ghosts." He said it like it explained everything.

"And?"

"Shut it, Gh-... Danny." He smiled brightly at the mention of his name.

"There. Was that so hard, Andrew?" Danny asked smugly.

Andrew rolled his eyes, but something inside his core preened at his name, "What did I just say?"

Danny furrowed his eyebrows and pretended to think for a moment, "My name?" He mentally grinned at Andrew's annoyed face.

"Shut. It."

"Say please."

So... It's been a while. Here's a teaser for you. I still find it crappy (IhateitIhateitIhateit *Rock in a corner*) compared to my new plots I've been working on, but *Shrugs* What are you gonna do? Oh, and don't kill me for leaving it at that, I promise I'll have the other part up as soon as I can, but I need to get some time. Maybe a few weeks from now? Maybe even this weekend? All depends on my flighty mind.

I'd say I was sorry for the long wait but I'm not. This is my story and I'll update it whenever I want, and this whole time I've only been improving my writing skills. Plus I have a life, over fifty other little plots attacking me, and my mind is super flighty and moves from one subject from the next in an instant, I'm really lazy, and a perfectionist. When you add all that up you can understand why. Also, Melding Cores? I kinda grew out of it, but don't worry, I'll get it done, somehow...