I don't own Danny Phantom. This goes for the whole fucking story, got it? I'm in a destructive mood so here ya go. A story about how the rest of the Supernatural world sees Danny. I probably won't continue this, so it's up for adoption. And if I do continue this there will be a shit-ton of gore and blood and death. Basically, it'll just be depressing and horrifying.

PM ME IF YOU WANT TO CONTINUE THIS FOR YOURSELF! Don't just sit there and twiddle your thumbs and hope that I'll just PM you randomly saying that you can write it.

I stood at the edge of the tallest building and watched the people bustling backwards and forwards along the street. No one noticed me; the boy standing to close to the edge, but then again, no one has noticed me in years. It kinda comes with the whole dead thing.

I sighed and disappeared from the rooftop, reappearing in front of an old, rotting three-story house.

"Home sweet home."

I slipped inside, passing through the door like it's not even there, and ran my hands through my faded green hair. I wish I could dye it another color, but I can't.

Walking up the stairs I frowned. They're getting too close.

Just two days ago there was yet another 'ghost' attack and it nearly destroyed Mrs. Robins old house. She was such a sweet woman, shame that her son killed her two months ago. She had the best stories.

I absently hummed and phased into my 'bedroom'. What was his name again? Addison? No, it was… it was Jackson. Or was it? I can't remember. Oh, well, it's not like it matters anyway. They haven't caught him yet and I doubt that they will.

There was a flash of green and I glanced out the window.

He was back again, fighting that robot 'ghost', and it looks like he was winning.

I glared at the white-haired teen as he sucked his opponent into a thermos and the Living cheered. Pathetic creature. For a second I wondered when I became this, I use to be so kind and cheerful, before the teen caught my attention again. He was leaving.

I growled and followed after.

Disappearing and reappearing behind the teen in an alleyway I didn't flinch when a ring of light appeared around his waist, or when it split into two and moved across his body. I had already seen it before, it doesn't impress me.

It never did.

Danny Fenton, Danny Phantom. Human, ghost. Living, dead.

Blood, ectoplasm. The two things that were never meant to coexist sharing a body.

A Halfa, the 'ghosts' call him. Pathetic creature - pitiful mortal – was what the rest of the supernatural realm called him.

I snarled and followed him as he met up with his Living friends. They laughed and mocked the 'ghost' he had fought.

Useless, the lot of them. Not even thinking of how close to death he is, of how close his obsession is to overwhelming him. It will. He is, after all, a Ghost Zone 'ghost'.