Hello, everybody!This story is a Nightmare Before Christmas/Frankenweenie/ Family Dog crossover. A lot of people aren't familiar with it nowadays, but Family Dog was an old cartoon from the 90s that I used to love to watch as a kid. It's not Disney, but Tim Burton, who directed The Nightmare Before Christmas and Frankenweenie, designed the characters, so I wanted to merge the three together in a crossover because I thought it made sense and would only be fitting and I wanted to expose more people to Family Dog. I think it's crazy more people don't know about that show because the first Amazing Stories episode it was spun off was directed by Brad Bird, who directed the Incredibles, and Executive Produced by Steven Spielberg. How does something with that many incredible talents behind it go by unnoticed and not get talked about after all these years? It remains a mystery to me. Anyway, this story came about because my Mom thinks Zero looks like the dog from Family Dog, and this gave me the crazy idea that Zero could be the ghost of the dog from Family Dog, but this is just a crazy theory I have. I don't think it's true. I just thought it would be fun to explore how it could be possible in this fic, which takes place after the end of The Nightmare Before Christmas and Frankenweenie. All the New Holland scenes take place in 1980, since the first 911 call was made in 1968 and the pacemaker was first used in 1960, and slight spoiler for the story, since Skip suffers a heart attack sometime before it starts and has a pacemaker put in, it wouldn't make any sense to have the story take place before the pacemaker and 911 call were both invented. 1980 also just happend to be the year Friday The 13th came out, so it wouldn't have made any sense to set it before that date, either, since Billy's son wears a Jason mask from the movie in the story. Yes, I did my homework, lol. I always do research for my stories when I have to. This story takes place after The Nightmare Before Christmas and Frankenweenie, which would make Victor 34, if I did my Math right, lol, since Frankweenie, according to Frankweenie Wiki, took place in 1957. I'm guessing the Binford kids are also about that age and now have children of their own. I made the town we see in Family Dog New Holland because we never found out where the Binfords live in the show, and I just thought it would make sense because we can see Zero's grave in the Frankenweenie movie. That's got to be my longest introduction ever, lol. Sorry. I'll let you read the story now. I hope you enjoy it!
Halloweentown...
Jack Skellington was beginning to panic.
The absolute worse, unthinkable thing had happened.
He had lost Zero, his beloved, ghostly canine companion throughout all of his adventures, including the last one they had undertaken to kidnap Santa Claws and bring Christmas to every little girl and boy, and rescue Sally from Oogie Boogie after he had kidnapped her. He had been looking for him everywhere all night and could not find him. He had been down every alleyway, and searched every nook and cranny of Halloweentown, it seemed, searching for the deceased dog and was having no luck finding him. He was about to give up all hope when he finally decided to go Dr. Finklestein's lab and ask Sally if she knew where he should look for Zero. He knew she would know what to do.
More bound and determined to find Zero than ever, Jack ran through the town, cupping his bony hands around his mouth, and continuously shouted out the ghost dog's name. Soon, other townspeople began to join in his search for his dog, and he was very grateful the citizens of Halloweentown were so loyal to him.
Once he reached the foot of the winding, spiraling steps leading up to Dr. Finklestein's lab, Jack stopped to turn around and face the townspeople. "Okay folks, I appreciate you guys helping me look for Zero very much, but I got to go the rest of the way on my own," he said, and bowed gracefully, clasping his claw-like hands together. "Thank you for your time. "
The townspeople grumbled, looks of disappointment flickering crossing their faces, and watched him run up the many steps to Dr. Finklsetein's lab. Wanting to help their dear friend, but knowing there was nothing else they could do for him, they turned to leave with great reluctance. All they could do was hope he could find his canine companion.
Hearing the door to the lab swing open, Sally stopped pouring the potion she was mixing and swerved around to face the new, unexpected visitor, her lengthy, red hair swishing from side to side across her back. "Oh, Jack," she said, sighing with relief when she saw the tall, stick-like figure standing in the doorway, and leaned against the table, grasping her chest. "It's just you, thank goodness." She walked up to Jack, wrapping her arms around his thin waist, and planted a light, yet heartfelt kiss on the side of his skull. "What brings you here, my love, if you don't mind me asking?" She peered up at him with pure love and devotion in her eyes.
Jack gulped, overwhelmed by her stunning beauty. "I-I-I can't find Zero," he said, stammering a little, once he had somehow managed to get his voice back.
Sally blinked in bewilderment. "Oh?" She tilted her head up at him, giving him a quizzical look. "Have you checked the graveyard?" She cupped his skull in her hands, running her long, slender fingers down them. "He usually hides out there in his house a lot when he wants sometime alone to think about things."
The deep, empty black sockets were his eyes used to be winded in surprise. 'You're right," he said, snapping his fingers, and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "I should've thought about that." He pulled back from her and smiled. "I'm just being silly."
"It's okay," Sally said, taking one of his skeletal hands in hers, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sure you'll find him."
Jack nodded. "Yeah, you're right," he said, feeling more confident now. "Thanks for the help." He turned to start back out the door, looking over his shoulder at Sally, giving her one last smile. "I very much appreciate it."
Sally laughed. "You're welcome," she said, watching him walk out the door before she turned back to her potion, and felt a small cross her stitched face. Her Jack. What would she do with him? What would she ever do without him? He was her rock, her life. Her everything. She really couldn't imagine a world without him in it.
Sally shuddered.
She didn't even want to think about the possibility.
When Jack had gotten to the graveyard, he still hadn't found Zero yet, and he was about to give up hope. "Zero!" He began to shout out Zero's name again, frantically swerving his head around from side to side, scanning his sightless gaze across the graveyard for Zero.
He let out a sigh of relief when he heard an excited yelp in the distance, and cackled with glee when he saw Zero floating toward him, and ran up to his ghostly companion. "Zero, you're here!" He danced around n his excitement. "I'm so glad I found you!"
In typical doggy fashion, Zero licked his skull in natural agreement, causing Jack to laugh.
"It's great seeing you again!" Jack smiled at him. "I was afraid I had lost you there for a moment." He turned his gaze back to the graveyard, his eyes going toward Zero's grave. "What are you doing out here, anyway?"
Zero indicated his doghouse by tilting his head at it, and motioned for Jack to follow him, beginning to fly toward it.
"What is it you want to show me, boy?" Jack asked, and followed Zero to his doghouse, bending down to peer inside of it when Zero flew in it.
Zero came back out seconds little, holding what looked like a picture frame in his mouth, and dropped it in Jack's hand.
"Ah, what's this?" Jack asked, rubbing his skull with his fingers, blinking at the picture frame in bewilderment. He was gazing at what appeared to be a family of four. There was a burly, middle-aged man standing in the middle with one of his arms wrapped around a slender, fair-haired woman who could only be his wife. Standing in front of them were two little humans who had to be their children. One was a short, stocky girl with pigtails, the other one was a boy with shaggy, shoulder-length hair wearing overalls over a red and white striped shirt.
"You're family?" Jack asked, gaping at Zero in disbelief. He hadn't known Zero had even had a family before. Why was Zero just waiting until now to tell him?"
Zero nodded his head and yelped, licking the frame, coating it with slobber.
A darkness fell over Jack's skull, and his expression became grave and solemn. "I bet you miss them, huh?" he asked, giving Zero a sympathetic look. "I bet you want to go back and visit them, wouldn't you?"
Zero just stared wordlessly at Jack, but his silence was a good enough answer for the Pumpkin King. "Well, why don't you go see them?" he asked, his gloomy mood brightening somewhat. "I bet they would love that!"
A wide, pleasant grin crossed Zero's muzzle.
A sudden, but wonderful idea came to Jack. "You can probably get to them by traveling through one of the same trees I went through to get to that strange, but winderful Christmas world," he said, turning to walk back out the cemetery gates, and waved at Zero over his shoulder. "Come on, I'll go with you!"
Zero barked, and soared through the cemetery gates, following him into the very same forest where Jack had found the clearing of portal trees during their first adventure. Zero sped through the forest after Jack, his spectral form nothing but a white blur only faintly visible in between the trees. When they arrived at the circle of portal trees, Jack stopped in the center of them, and studied each one.
"Hmm," Jack said, rubbing his chin in deep thought, his eyes going to the tree he had traveled through the last time. "Well, I went through that one with the funny tree on it the last time." He turned his gaze away from the tree, having no interest in at all after having already explored it, and returned his attention to the tree with the orange pumpkin that reminded him of himself in a way. "Why don't you go through this one, and come back and tell me what's its like? I have to admit, I'm awful curious about it."
Zero gave him an understanding look, and floated toward the tree with the pumpkin on the door.
Jack hovered his hand over the doorknob for a moment, a little hesitant, a part of him afraid Zero would enjoy living with his old family so much he would never come back and see him again, but he furiously shook his head in an attempt to banish this selfish fear from his mind. Zero's happiness came first, no matter what. As far as Jack was concerned, his feelings were inferior to Zero's. Always. "Come back soon, buddy," he said, watching, helplessly, as Zero flew through the door, and shut it back behind him, suddenly feeling very lonely. "I'll miss you."
If the dog had heard him, Jack didn't know, for he was already gone.
New Holland, 1980...
Skip Binford didn't consider himself to be a particularly religious man. He didn't believe in ghosts, the afterlife, or any other kind of supernatural phenomenon, so he was quite shocked when he opened the door one day and saw the ghost of their deceased dog floating above the doorstep.
Skip remembered the day they had buried the family dog all too well.
It had been a cloudy, rainy, rather depressing day, the perfect day for such a grim ceremony. The kids were crying, holding their mother's hand, watching their father as he carried their beloved pet to its grave, cradling the limp dog in his big, bulging arms, which dwarfed its small, lifeless body. Later on, Bev would tell him he had been crying, too, but he hadn't believed her at the time, thinking she was just trying to get one up on him. He also remembered Bev had shed a tear or two, though, but she would never admit it. She was just as stubborn as he was. At the time he remembered thinking how the dog had seemed to be heavier in death than it had been in life and how it odd was.
Skip shook his head in order to clear it, furiously blinking the tears out of his eyes, and gaped at the dog in puzzlement. "Is that you old boy?" he asked, not wanting to believe it, but at the same time hoping it was, and that he wasn't seeing things. If this was their dog, there was something different about him, something off. Instead of the little black nose he used to have above the tip of his muzzle, there was a smiling, glowing pumpkin with eyes. He wondered how he had gotten it, and thought about asking him, but in the end decided he really didn't want to know. Besides, the dog wouldn't have been able to tell him, anyway. "What are you doing here?"
His spectral canine visitor just smiled at him, barked in excitement, and licked his face.
Skip laughed. "That is you, old boy," he said, wiping the slobber off his face with one of his trembling hands. "I thought it was, but I wasn't for sure."
"Hey, Uncle Skip, Buffy's being annoying again!"
Skip flinched, hearing his grandson 's voice coming from somewhere behind him. "Just play nice with Beverly, Billy," he said, turning around to see what all the commotion was about, and wasn't surprised to see Billy, named after his Uncle Skip, of course, come flying by, dressed in his Dad's favorite Halloween costume, which just happened to be Jason from the Friday The Thirteenth movies. He even had the white mask on, and a chainsaw very much like the one Jason had had in the movies, probably tormenting his sister with it, no doubt.
Skip shook his head when his suspicions were proven correct seconds later, and he saw his grandaughter, Beverley, who Buffy had named after her mother, run by him in her favorite Princess costume, screaming at the top of her lungs. "Uncle Skip, Billy's being to me!" she shouted
Billy cackled evilly, acting very much like his father had, so very long ago now, it seemed. "I'm going to rip that dress into shreds!" he shouted, paying little heed to his father's advice. Watching them play made Skip feel older than what he already was, and he hadn't thought that was even possible. He couldn't remember ever being that young and full of energy.
His lined, drawn, haggard face sagged. "Darn kids," he said, shaking his head, and turned back around. "They're going to be the death of me, yet -" He stopped when he saw the ghostly visitor was gone and nowhere to be seen. It was almost as if it had never been there. He really was starting to believe he was seeing things now. "They're already driving me crazy." He shuddered, sticking his head back inside, and shut the door behind him. "They got me seeing ghosts."
Going back inside the house, he walked into the living room and through the kitchen, where he found Bev hunched over the sink, doing dishes. "Bev, I'm going to go out for a walk!" he shouted, making sure she heard him, his gaze, unintentionally, wandering to the floor, toward the very spot where he had suffered the severe heart attack that had almost killed him several years ago, a painful reminder of what had happened.
It all came rushing back to him in one, horrifying instant, so vivid and clear in his mind it was almost as if it had happened yesterday.
He had been sitting at the table when the sharp, unbearable pain of a paralyzing constriction gripped his chest, pressing down on his heart like a large slab of stone, and preventing it from pumping any blood into his lungs, which had felt like they were being crushed. Seeking some relief, he had shakily rose up from the chair and lurched toward the refrigerator, gasping for breath, and clutched his heaving stomach, struggling to lean against the refrigerator for support even as he was falling to the floor, where he had collapsed in a broken heap.
The stupid dog had ran in soon after, barking it's fool head off, followed not long afterwards by Bev, who had ran to his aid, knelt over him, and began to call his name over and over again, begging him to please not leave her. She had even called him Bill, and she hadn't called him Bil in a long time. Cradling his head in her hands, she had peered worringly into his face, brushing his sweat-caked hair off his forehead.
His back had arched, sending his body into violent, bucking spasms, and his hands clawed at the floor as he wheezed, his breath rattling in his throat. He had barely been able to hear the faint sound of the dog barking in his pounding ears. The last thing he could remember was hearing Buffy, wondering what was happening to her father, and his eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sound of her desperate voice.
Skip shuddered.
It had all been pure chaos.
Putting a dish she had just finished washing in the dish drainer, Bev spun around to face him, looking slightly annoyed. "That's good, honey," she said, shaking him out of his dark reverie, her lips pressed into a thin smile. "A little exercise will be good for that old heart of yours."
Skip walked over to her, going around the spot where he had fell in the floor when the heart attack had struck him, intentionally avoiding it, as if it would be bad luck if he stepped on it, hoping Bev hadn't noticed. "Yeah, you're right," he said, encircling his big hands around her narrow waist, and planted a light, yet heartfelt kiss on one of her cheeks. "I won't be gone long."
"Where are you going, anyway?" Bev asked, planting her hands on her hips, and raised a questioning eyebrow at him.
"Oh, just out for a little stroll about the neighborhood," Skip said, not wanting to tell her he was going to the graveyard. She would know why he was going, and would more than likely make fun of him for it.
"All right, just make it back before dark, all right?" Bev asked, a look of apprehension crossing her face. "I worry about you being out on your own, after everything, you know?"
"I know, but I'll be back soon," Skip said, lumbering back to the door, waving at her as he walked out of the kitchen, and peered his head back around the doorway. "Bye, honey, I love you."
Bev shook her head. "I love you, too, dear," she said, shaking her head, and returned her attention back to the arduous task of doing the family's dishes, hoping her husband wouldn't go out and do something foolish.
The thin, young long-legged man lying against one of the many tombstones in the old New Holland cemetery woke up, disturbed from the same, recurring nightmare he had been having every day ever since his beloved dog, Sparky, had died after getting run over by a car years ago, gasping for breath, sweat running down his narrow, gaunt face, and feeling something as soft as fabric brush against one of his sunken cheeks.
The young man didn't know why he was continuing to have this dream. He had successfully brought Sparky back from the dead years ago by the means of a successful science experiment, after all, but in the nightmare he still kept on seeing Sparky getting run over again and again, while he stood by the road and watched, unable to do anything to prevent it, having never felt so helpless before in his life.
Desptite having surviving that horrendous accident and having a burning windmill fall on top of him after his parents had helped persuade the townspeople to being him back to life with the electricity from their vehicles, however, he had died years later, of old age. He hadn't brought him back a third time, though, thinking it would be cruel and unkind to bring him back into such a harsh, unforgiving world after he had already served his time there. He loved science, but even he had his limits with what he would be willing to do with it.
Once he had somehow managed to compose himself, he sat bolt upright, still blinking the sleep out of his tired eyes, which had dark shadows under them. He turned around to see where he had ended up, surprised to see the tombstone he was lying against wasn't Sparky's, but the rock reminded him of Sparky just the same, for there was the face of a dog that reminded him very much of Sparky. It had the same long nose.
"What's a young man like you doing hanging out in graveyard like this at this time of morning, huh?"
At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, the young man jumped, having not been expecting any visitors, and swerved around to see a stocky, yet tall man of about average height walking up to him. He squinted his gaze, trying to make out the man, but he didn't recognize him. He had never seen him in town before. The man was moving slowly, as if something was hurting him.
Fearing something was wrong with him, the younger man shakily rose to his feet on his stick-like legs, staggering a little, his muscles still sore and stiff from lying on the ground all night. He winced. Here he was, only thirty-four years old, and already turning into an old man.
"I came to see my dog," the younger man said, and walked up to the man, holding one of his long, slender hands out for him to shake. "He died of old age a few years ago." He left out the part about bringing him back from the dead the first two times. He didn't think the man needed to know that, remembering, all too well, how his parents and the whole town had panicked after he had brought Sparky back from the dead. This man, whoever he was, probably wouldn't have taken the news well, either. He squinted at him, struggling to make out who he was. He had never seen him in town before. "My name's Victor, Victor Farankenstein, and it's a pleasure to meet you, sir."
The man smiled at him. "My names Skip, by the way, Skip Binford, and it's a pleasure meeting you, too, Victor," he said, taking Victor's hand in his, and gave it a firm, yet warm shake. This was a working man, Victor thought. He had probably worked the biggest part of his life to feed and take care of his family. Victor could tell. His hands were rough and calloused. Skip chuckled. "It's actually nice meeting a kid with some manners for once, after everything my boy's put me through." He grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know what's it like, to lose a dog. It's a tough thing to deal with, and no kid should ever have to lose their pet, especially one as young as you."
"Thank you," Victor said, giving him a grateful look. "Are you all right?"
The man ran his fingers through his thinning, graying, russet hair. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, his hand going to the upper area of his chest, and began to rub it. "I just had a pacemaker put in a couple of years ago and the darn thing makes it a little hard to breathe sometimes when I'm walking, but I'll be all right."
"Okay, if you sure," Victor said, still not at all convinced that this man was all right, but decided to change the subject, knowing the man couldn't be enjoying having a conversation about his failing heart with a younger man half of his age. Victor knew he wouldn't have if he was in this man's shoes. He suddenly remembered the soft brush of fabric he had felt against his cheek earlier. "Did you happen to see something that looked like a ghost float by here by any chance?"
Skip snorted, and began to sputter a little bit, caught off guard and clearly affronted by Victor's question. "There's no such thing as ghosts, young man," he said, shaking his head, and narrowed his eyes at Victor, his gaze stern. "A kid as bright as you shouldn't believe in them, either." He shook a scolding finger at Victor, and the younger man flinched away from him. "I can't tell you whether I believe in the afterlife or not, because it's a mixed bag for me, to tell you the truth, but I'll tell you one thing, I haven't seen anything to make be believe that there is a life after death, though don't listen to me." His hardened expression became kind, and he gave Victor a sympathetic look, seeing the dark, grim shadow that had fallen across the young man's face. "I'm just a silly, senile old man too stuck in his ways."
Victor couldn't hide his disappointment. "Oh," he said, staring down at his feet for a few minutes and looked back up the man. "So, what brings you here, if you don't mind me asking?"
The man gulped, his eyes widening in fear, and he suddenly looked terrified. "I came to see my dog, too," he said, and Victor was shocked to see tears spilling out of his beady eyes and running down his cheeks. "He died of old age, just like your dog did, not too long ago."
"I'm sorry," Victor said, surprised he meant it. He did feel sorry for this man he didn't even know. He felt bad for anybody who had lost a dog. He knew what it was like. He knew it was a hard thing to deal with.
"If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here, today," Skip said, a faraway look in his sad, distant gaze, his weary, mournful eyes wondering to the grave Victor had been lying against all night. "If he hadn't started barking when I was having the heart attack, Bev wouldn't have known to call the ambulance."
Victor just started at him wordlessly, not knowing what to else to say. "Here, let me help you," he said, when Skip started to stagger toward the grave, seeing he was still having a little trouble getting around, and leaned against his side to help support him.
Skip plopped down on the ground in front of the grave, practically collapsing, and stared blindly at the tombstone.
Victor walked up behind him and draped a comforting hand over one of his slumped shoulders, which were beginning to quake from the soft sobs Victor was surprised to hear emitting from the great, trembling lump. "It'll be all right," he said, kneeling down beside the man, and sat on the ground beside him. "We'll get through this together."
Skip sniffed. "Thanks, young man," he said blowing his nose on his shirt, and Victor looked over at him, surprised to see his cheeks were blushing red from embarrassment. He had never seen a grown man cry before, not even his own Dad, and it was very awkward, especially when the man crying was as big as Skip. He didn't know quite how to handle it, and he turned away.
"I like to believe there's some kind of life after death, you know," Victor ventured, to make the vast silence that had been hanging over them for the past several minutes seem less awkward. "I like to think both of our dogs are up there somewhere, chasing cats and digging up bones."
Skip sighed. "Who knows," he said, resting his elbow on his knee, and propped his chin in his hand. "Maybe you're right, young man."
Victor didn't tell Skip, not knowing how the man would take it, but when he tilted his head up toward the sky, he thought he could see what looked like the shapes of two dogs chasing each other's tails. He couldn't help but smile.
Maybe there was life after death after all.
The End