Spy Guy: This is an experiment. I'm going to come right out and say that this is my first time writing for the Supernatural community. I've been with the Danny Phantom community for...what...five years now? Four? Somewhere around there. Anyways, It's what I know best.

But I also need to explore new things.

I'm hoping that this fic will help me to get used to writing about the Winchesters. I think I have it down, but let me know using...

REVIEWS!!! I luv reviews. Who doesn't? Really? lolz.

Anyways, here is the first chapter of my fic. I hope y'all enjoy it.

Blanket Disclaimer: I do not own neither Danny Phantom, nor Supernatural.

(This fic takes place in season one of Supernatural a few weeks after Something Wicked this way comes, and in season three of Danny Phantom, before Phantom planet. Slight AU for DP because...I have my own ideas on how his powers work. It's not too drastic. You'll get it.)

In the early morning, the house was eerily silent. Maddie Fenton sluggishly shuffled down the stairs, her slippers making soft noises on their wooden surfaces. She held her robe tightly around her body, trying to keep out the cold night air.

Maddie couldn't sleep.

She had tried for hours, lying next to her husband's warm body, closing her eyes, willing for sleep to come…but it never had.

Something was wrong.

Inside, she knew it. The feeling hung heavily in the air, and it made her jumpy and nervous. She couldn't get to sleep, so he contented herself in warming up some milk in her favorite mug.

The clock on the microwave said that it was 2:52 in the morning. Hadn't she read once that most accidents happened at 3:00 A.M? Was that why she was so restless?

The microwave's timer went off with a soft beep. Quietly, so as not to wake anyone, Maddie opened the door and removed the steaming mug from inside. The scent was slightly sour, but she knew that it would taste wonderful…with only small spoonful of sugar.

With a tired sigh, Maddie sat at the dining table, slowly sipping the warm drink, letting it calm her nerves. Below, she could hear the low growl of the furnace as it pumped small amounts of hot air into the home. It wasn't nearly enough. It didn't help that Danny usually slept with his window open. His room was always so cold…and strangely, he never seemed to mind.

Danny had changed so much.

For a moment, Maddie paused, staring blankly at the wall, her thoughts drifting to her youngest child. Danny had changed too much in the last year…He had become secretive, depressed. His grades had plummeted. And then there were his strange injuries. He wasn't the happy, carefree child she had known only a few months prior. Where high school had been a salvation for Jazz, it had beaten Danny down, leaving a broken, reclusive child in its wake.

Looking down at the mug, Maddie suddenly found the milk repulsive. Her stomach rolled. Getting to her feet, she looked towards the clock again. It was 3:01. The feeling of foreboding was heavier than ever. For a moment, she contemplated on going down to the lab to work…but then, she knew that she would have to put on her hazmat suit, and the thought of taking off her robe in the cold air was repulsive. Instead, Maddie ascended the stairs, holding tightly to the banister, suddenly feeling sick.

It was then that she heard a loud thud, followed by a sharp cry of pain…coming from Danny's room.

A chill ran up her spine, and the woman ran up the remaining stairs to her son's closed door. Ghost...Her mind screamed at her. She knocked, waiting only seconds before trying the knob…

It wouldn't open.

Danny always locked his door. He had bought the lock himself, and installed it to keep people out. Why was it locked at night? What was he doing?

"Danny?" Maddie cried, trying to keep the panic from her voice. "Danny!"

"Maddie…what's wrong?"

The woman turned around, only to see her husband standing by her side, wiping sleep from his eyes.

"I heard a sound coming from Danny's room. And his door is locked. He won't answer me."

"Alright." Jack said, walking to her side, and gently pushing her away. "I'm not all fat, you know."

With deep growl, he pushed his considerable girth against the door, splintering the wood, and pulling the crude lock from the drywall of his son's room. The door swung back, creaking loudly against bent hinges.

And there…sprawled out across the windowsill, was Danny, his head lying on the carpet, his legs hanging out the window. Dark liquid pooled around him, dripping from what looked like a deep slash across his throat.

Blood bubbled in his mouth, staining his lips a deep red. Danny coughed, more crimson dripping onto the carpet.

Maddie stood still in the doorway, her face as white as a sheet…

Sam Winchester briskly walked through the parking lot, carrying a large bag of greasy burritos in one hand, precariously cradling two coffees to his chest with the other. His brother, Dean, sat at the steering wheel of his classic black Impala, listening to the pounding drone of mullet rock, not even noticing Sam's approach.

The younger brother opened the passenger door, and slid into the gray vinyl seat, setting the coffees in the cup-holders, automatically throwing a burrito at Dean.

"What took you so long?" Dean asked, turning away from his music for only a moment, smirking…as usual.

"They wouldn't take my credit card." Sam grumbled, tearing into his own burrito. "You can imagine how that went.

"Hey, no one ever said that credit card fraud was foolproof." Dean grinned, putting his car into drive and pealing out of the parking lot. "At least we have enough food to get where we're going. Now tell me." He said, turning the music down only a small amount. "What'd you find last night that made you want to pack up and leave so fast? You haven't told me yet."

Sam sighed running a hand over his face. He really didn't want to have to tell his brother the real reason for leaving. He never liked telling him about what he saw.

"I've been doing some research." The man said, reaching into a bag at his feet, pulling out a thin stack of papers. On the front page was a photograph of a teenage boy, with black hair and icy blue eyes.

"Daniel Fenton, age: 15 from Amity Park, Michigan. He was found by his parents about a week ago in his second story room, draped over the windowsill and bleeding from numerous deep knife wounds. His throat was slit and he'd lost a fatal amount of blood"

"Serial killer?" Dean suggested, mulling the information over in his mind. "Or maybe he was just some angsty kid?"

"It wasn't suicide. There was no weapon found at the scene. No trace of any other human either. No fingerprints, hairs, nothing." Sam continued, shifting through his papers again. He hesitated for a moment, before continuing, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "But it's not the cause that we're investigating. Danny's not dead."

"What?" Dean asked sharply, reaching forward to turn his music off.

"He's still alive, and at the Amity Park City hospital, currently in a coma."

"That could mean any number of things, Sammy." The older brother sighed, staring hard at the road. "Maybe he's possessed."

"But that still doesn't make sense." Sam replied. "If he was possessed, then why isn't he healed already?"

"Miracle healer?" Dean asked.

"He wouldn't be in a coma." His brother sighed.

"This is going to be one of those cases that's just a bitch to solve, isn't it?" Dean asked, taking a violent bite from his burrito as he pressed his foot harder against the pedal, roaring loudly down the highway.

Spy Guy: I have to say, I love that last line...and the fact that they're eating burritos throughout the whole thing. Lolz.

Review! Please!