Everything hurt.
The smell of blood-tinged ectoplasm burned Danny's nose with each rasping breath. His ribs burned—a sharp, cutting sort of pain that meant shattered and splintered bone. A weak cough sent white-hot shudders of agony through him, lighting searing embers deep within his core. He pulled in shallow, desperate gasps, eyes open but unseeing. The world was a haze of blue-white-black around him.
Some part of his mind tugged gently, a little bell-cord of meek attention. This feels like dying, it said. You're dying.
Again.
There was no panic in the realization. In fact, there was no urgency at all. It simply was. His gloved—no, not gloved, bare—finger twitched where they rested on his ribs; his hypersensitive fingertips glided across bone and torn strips of muscle. Eew, he thought faintly.
Danny was dying, and that was that.
Too bad Sam and Tucker didn't come with us, he thought, blinking sluggishly. I don't want to die alone.
He was kinda' glad he didn't have to endure their reactions to how he died, though. He could see the engraving on his headstone now: "Here lies Danny, who was dumb enough to get run over by a truck in the middle of Wisconsin. Rest in peace, dumbass."
Danny snorted, then immediately regretted it as his entire torso lit up in agony. "Ow, fuck," he wheezed, choking as fresh blood bubbled up from his lungs. The pain faded slowly back to the ponderous throbbing he had been enduring for the past half hour, leaving him twitching and panting shallowly.
Just let me die already, he thought with black humor. As if in answer, blackness began to eat away at the corners of his vision. His breath became shallower and more desperate.
Danny's eyes shut in another slow blink; they didn't open again. I wonder if I'll stay around as a full ghost. His fingers shook against his pulverized chest. I hope so. I want to see Sam and Tuck again.
"Daniel?"
There was a voice, a kinda' familiar voice. Unthinking, Danny hummed in the back of his throat. Yup. Danny here. Who needs saving? No one, I hope, because I can't even save myself!
"Daniel!" The voice sounded extremely alarmed. A hand touched his face, burning against his freezing human skin.
Laboriously, Danny managed to open his eyes. A vaguely ghost-looking blur hovered over him, red eyes wide. A tiny smile twitched at the teenager's lips. His eyes slid shut again. Hope you're not out to murder anyone, dude, he thought. He paused, then mentally added unless it's me. I kinda want this to end.
"Oh, cheesecake," the vaguely-ghost-looking-blur cursed. Hands gingerly slid under Danny's shoulders and legs.
The teenager frowned faintly, consciousness rapidly slipping away. Who did that sound like? He wondered as he was pressed against a chest. Gravity increased for a moment, a sudden wind whipping his unruly black hair around his numb face.
Was that…?
Was that Mr. Masters' voice?
Everything went black.
May not ever continue this. PM me if you want to use the idea.