Sanguinem et Daemonia
(Blood and Demons)
It started on August 24, 2007 at five-twenty-eight in the evening. That day was a Friday, the day all teenagers look forward to, the day he adored with a passion because it meant freedom for a weekend, two days of nothing but ghost powers and friendship and family. Perfection.
The day is ingrained in his corneas, carved with a razor blade on his hippocampus and the too-pale flesh of his stomach. He remembers every minute detail with an almost terrifying precision. One with demons in their head always hears the screaming long after the echoes have been silenced.
But the subsequent days and weeks and months and years afterward blur together 'til he can't tell fiction from nonfiction, reality from dream. 'Til he can't tell living with Mom (MaddieMaddieprettymommy) and Dad (JackJackstupidstupidfuck) from living with Mom and Dad. 'Til Mom and Dad, Sam and Tucker and Jazz and the A-listers all blur together in a water-color conglomeration with one face and many voices and in his head there's a hissing like snakes that says
You
Were
Never
Enough
He wishes it would stop. Because he can't sleep, not that he ever slept much before anyways. And though he doesn't want to, he knows he has to. There's something important he has to do, something very important and in his head there's somebody screaming and blood drip drip dripping and a baritone laugh that's so very cruel so very familiar –
And suddenly he's back there, back to August 24,2007 and he's watching Vlad kill-kill-kill his Dad, obliterate his sister and there was nothing but bloodlust and incandescent fury in hellfire red eyes.
It worries him that that horrible cruel laugh has become the lullaby that sends him to sleep.
And then suddenly he's living with Mom and Dad because the courts have deemed Madeline Fenton unfit to be his legal guardian – she's crazy crazy crazy since Jack's heart got torn from his ribcage – because there's so many fucking things wrong with this. But he doesn't say a word through this all.
The words want to come out want to pour from his mouth like blood from an artery but, really, what's the point in arguing against Vlad motherfucking Masters?
He's the worst sort of
Coward.
And there are so many apologies circling in so many people crushing him with their arms tasting his misery just like Mom and trying to get in close to this teenager this child that survived a tragedy that took so much. And he knows he's skinny, tiny because of his ghost-powers fighting sleep deprivation, but he wishes he was skinnier so he could slip through the crowds like the wind like smoke like a dream like a secret – and then he remembers he knows how to be invisible and he flees.
He sees Valerie the night before Dad removes him from his home his life and he for a fleeting moment he considers going to her, allowing her to put her ecto-blaster right over his core and
Pull
The
Trigger
But he doesn't. Because he's fucking weak and a coward and he couldn't even see this coming. How could he not see the demons in fruitloop's twisted little brain? Not see that Spectra was working her way in whispering sugar sweet decaying lies into his ear?
There's a spark missing from Dad's eyes now a passion now
Dead.
He looks demented. Shattered pieces glued back together by a child's hands. Like he's been –
And then he gets it. He finally fucking gets it.
Penelope Spectra is a witch and a whore and Mom but she understands Vlad Masters on a level no one else ever could dream of. She tastes his misery and savors the flavor tears him down to his broken knees, croons murderous demonic things in his ear while the world crumbles around them. And then she'll do things like make his favorite tea (Lady Gray with just a hint of honey) and curl up with him on the couch and curl under his chin like a content cat, fingers brushing over steelcord muscles while quiet murmurs of assurance leave her lips.
They are not healthy they are co-dependent and venomous and abusive and so tragic. So fucking tragic.
The story books got it wrong, Danny thinks. There are no happy endings, no heroes in a world full of sex drugs suffering and shit. Even the Wicked Witch had loved and was loved by somebody and how can there be happy endings when Sam was buried with only half a head? How can there be sunshine when Tucker is dead and cold and in the ground?
There is no hope.
No light. Nothing but frozen wastelands and whispering bones and snakes hissing in his ears.
They're
All
Dead.
And it's all his fault.
Stupid fucking weak little hero with your ghost powers and your stupid moniker why couldn't you get it right and just save your goddamn father? The snake is hissing but it's singing a different tune now –
Murderer
Murderer
Murderer
Waste
He comes to a castle that screams opulence with its black silk sheets and Green Bay Packers décor splattering the walls like emerald entrails and all Danny wants to do is fucking scream. He wants to break everything in this godforsaken place, crush the bricks blunt the knives burn the beams overhead and scorch the entire fucking planet until there's nothing left but ashes and the taste of charred meat on his tongue.
That first night as Mom and Dad retreat into their expansive bedroom and scream and fuck until the Sun comes up he retreats into the bathroom. Nothing but whispers and demons for company. And suddenly he forgets how to breathe. He pants clawing at his head and leaving big bleeding gashes in too-pale flesh and begging whoever would listen for the demons to just go. AWAY!
That's where they find him hours later curled on cold tile bleeding and whimpering like a broken little bitch.
Vlad Dad looks like he doesn't know what to think like you're a contradiction within his shattered mind even though there's crimson staining his stupid expensive marble flooring.
And Penny Mom has an odd look in her eyes like she wants to cry and wants to scream but she is a vampire therefore biology and art dictates she must feed upon your misery break your bones.
It doesn't matter, not really, not anymore.
Not to anyone and not to VladDad and certainly not to one former hero turned fuckup named Danny Fenton.
The days pass in an amalgamation and he's not retaining anything because the universe has become a toddler's watercolor painting with him as the star. He doesn't remember making a conscious decision not to eat. But he knows he's always been careful about what he eats.
Always fearful of eating too much despite his flippant attitude.
Taking what he doesn't deserve.
And he knows enough now because Mom is always spouting her psychobabble and trying to "fix him" that it probably stems from the a-c-c-i-d-e-n-t. Probably stems from being a v-i-c-t-i-m. And he hates that word those six letters coming together to condemn him. Because he is a Hero and in the story books the Hero is never a v-i-c-t-i-m. He hates that word
V
I
C
T
I
M
It sounds pitiable and pathetic.
Makes him sound like he's some tiny broken puppy shoved into a pound begging "take me home, take me home" a big boisterous puppy with black and white fur –
And here he has to stop. Because he's missing Dad again and that's not allowed, not in the Masters household no matter what Mom told him when he moved in, whispered under her breath with haunted green eyes and bruises on her arms. How dare he miss the man that ruined Dad? How dare he steep in his own misery when the Mansons and the Foleys have lost their precious children lost their future and the only thing that mattered? He's lost everything.
But unlike them he had no right to possess anything at all.
There's a pressure an ache that's bubbling underneath his skin and he hasn't slept in a week despite Vlad shooting him almost-human glances and Penelope looking ever-younger ever-worried by the day.
And there's something missing in his head and when he closes his eyes there's no comforting familiar bloodredred the same color as his mom's goggles and no demented lullaby laughter.
Instead he sees bare pale high school hallways and the questioning stare of Jazz, the picture of Tucker still laughing or it's Sam's terrified face he sees or his dad's bleeding corpse on the floor with Vlad standing over it heart in a clawed palm and oh God he just wants to sleep why can't they leave him alone?
And that's a selfish thought because he's a
Murderer
Murderer
Murderer
He doesn't deserve to forget or to eat or to sleep.
Danny Fenton
Danny Phantom
Hero
The Ghost Boy
He thought there would be some relief some sort of closure after a while after healing. But there's no healing only festering pus-filled wounds that crack open and bleed and whispers in his head crooning terrible things.
He doesn't deserve anything.
And though he's in constant company with DadVlad and his demons and Penelope with her witchcraft her bruises and the ghosts and humans –
At night he's all alone in the cold cold moonlight on the floor in the bathroom.
And that's when his demons his snakes come out of his head to play and even though he knows they're not real
Sometimes he forgets.
So he doesn't eat doesn't want to eat and he really doesn't know why because this has NEVER happened before but he is skinnier than he's ever been before. And this is something he can control. This is something that Dad cannot forbid and Mom cannot see because she's too busy watching dear darling fucked-up little Vlad. Not eating is easy. Far far easier than
Living.
And maybe when he's skinny enough the ghost powers that started this whole fucking mess will burn away and he'll be absolved finally be human be invisible.
And maybe without all those eyes ghost eyes human eyes staring and condemning
He'll finally be free.
A/N: Hello once again my lovelies! My name is BlackRosePoetry and welcome back to the clusterfuck that is my mind. Now, this particular fic is in the same universe as "Serpentis", meaning that you might want to read that in conjunction with this. Now, I will warn you guys, this fic is dark and deals with a lot of delicate topics that may be triggering to some, as was stated by the warning in the summary. Danny, as you probably already noticed, is the main focus of this piece, and in this I'll be going through his metamorphosis in the aftermath of Vlad's psychotic break.
My beloved Vleb and his lovely Penny will be main characters in this as well. Never fear! I am absolute trash for fucking Misery Motivated, so there will indeed be chapters from both Vlad and Penelope's point of view. But, as I said in Serpentis, their relationship is not a healthy one. It's all about addiction and abuse. They're co-dependent on one another, and, believe it or not, Spectra isn't always the monster, especially where Danny's concerned.
But I don't want to spoil anything for you dearies. All will be explained and fleshed-out in good time.
I very much hope to read your reviews in the coming weeks, and I hope you enjoyed!
BlackRosePoetry