Supernatural Retaliation
Chapter Four
Danny ran, intangible and invisible, after the two ghost hunters-slash-teachers, intent on figuring out what they were going to do, and—he shuddered to think—who died. This wasn't the every day ghost attack—no, it was much worse. Someone had actually died. That made him furious. How dare a ghost actually attack and kill one of the citizens in his city? Amity Park was his to protect, and his only. When he found the culprit, he wasn't just going to beat it around and suck it up in the thermos. He was going to make it sorry.
It really terrified him to think about who had died. Was it someone he knew? Was this the murderer that also killed Mikey's parents?
He panted as he ran down the halls and turned a corner to the boy's locker room. He knew the entire school was in the assembly room, but it didn't hurt to be safe. He didn't want anyone to see him change.
He flung himself into the locker room and forced a change so fast, he didn't feel it happen. He then sped through the walls to find the ghost responsible for the panic.
-
Sam and Dean drove across the street to check out the Nasty Burger because it was covered in yellow police tape. The two instinctively knew that that was most likely the site of at least one of the murders. As Dean parked, Sam reached behind his seat and found their bag of spare ID tags and fake disguises.
He passed a closed leather wallet to Dean and he stuffed it in his shirt pocket as they power walked to the crime scene, trying to look official.
"Detective O'Connely," Dean told the chief in a commanding voice, pulling out the wallet and opening it to reveal a shiny detective badge. He then motioned to Sam. "This is my assistant… Harry… uh, Pitts. We're with the State."
The chief's face slid into a deeper scowl, not catching Dean's crack.
"Regionals can handle it!" he yelled angrily and throwing his hands in the air, making it clear he was very stressed at the moment. "We've got no room for the State, anyhow."
"Sorry, but the Feds beg to differ," Dean smiled annoyingly, pushing past the poor chief and leaving him red in the face. Sam followed him past the tape and into the restaurant, fuming.
"Dean, next time, leave the name picking to me," he growled. Seeing Dean's smirk he added, "You suck."
They both casually walked over to where all the police were crowding around the center of the room.
"This the body?" Dean asked lightly.
One of the policemen acknowledged him with a small nod. "One of 'em. You with the Feds?"
"…Yeah," Sam answered quickly. "Look, we need you to tell us all you know."
The man shrugged, leading the two men away from the center of the room where all the policemen were bustling around, to the counter. "I was told not to converse with the detectives but, eh, what the hell? I just want this case over with so I can get home."
"'Atta boy!" Dean said happily, pulling out a spare notebook from his pocket. Both brothers looked to the man expectantly.
"Two deaths," the policeman whispered, leaning closer to Sam, who took the notebook from Dean and began writing as fast as he could.
"We think it was a ghost, but we're not sure. One was your average civilian, Steve Burns. Worked here," he said, patting the counter behind him. "At the register. The other was a ghost hunter who was pretty famous across town. We've already loaded him up in the ambulance, but we're sure he's gone. His poor family… they're gonna be devastated by the news. The whole town, too, come to think of it," the man added sadly.
Sam frowned. "Sorry, I don't think I caught the second one's name," he said. The policeman sighed heavily and leaned in even closer after looking carefully around the room for any prying ears and eyes.
"It was Mister Jack Fenton."
-
Dean swallowed a lump in his throat as he watched the policeman walk away to finish his duty. "…No way."
"I know, it's horrible," Sam bit his lip. "That guy was right, his family's going to be devastated."
"The poor kid—I really liked 'im."
"Dean, the kid's not dead," Sam said, frowning at his brother.
"Yeah, I know, it just… it hurts. Real bad to see this happen to anyone. Losing dad-" Dean choked. He swallowed again and leaned back on the register counter. "Losing a dad cuts a family real deep, you know?"
Sam heaved a heavy sigh, sadly and wholeheartedly agreeing. "Yeah, I know."
Suddenly, Dean sniffed the air and turned around to face the counter. He trailed two fingers along the side of the napkin dispenser sitting on the surface of counter next to the register and inspected them. "Hey, Sam, get a look at this."
Sam gasped. "Sulfur," he murmured, looking around and scanning through all the men in the room, as if to determine whether or not they were demons. "That can only mean one thing—"
He was interrupted by a startling crash that sounded throughout the room. All the policemen looked up from their work to see what had caused the noise. Both Sam and Dean gasped when they turned to face where all the police were staring. The ghost kid from the night before was floating near where he had just blasted a hold through the ceiling.
"What's going on?" the boy cried, clearly distressed. "Someone needs to tell me! Who died?"
Seeing the startled expressions on everyone's face and not receiving any answer, he bellowed, "Tell me!"
If it wasn't shockingly clear what the kid was before, it became so after one of the men pointed and yelled, "Ghost!"
That broke the eerie silence as all the policemen filed out of the restaurant with shouts and cries of fear.
"Quick, Sam, get the gun!" Dean called loudly so as to be heard over the chaotic screaming. "Silver bullets this time! I've got the colt."
Sam dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a silver knife and a gun, loaded with small, sterling silver bullets, as Dean did the same. He aimed it at the ghost kid and was about to pull the trigger when both him and Dean were sent flying across the room. They were slammed hard against the nearest wall with grunts of pain, and both of them dropped their weapons as they slid to the floor.
"He's mine! Don't hurt him!" a deep voice hissed from the opposite side of the restaurant. "Mine!"
By this time, all the police had fled from sight. All except for one who was, in fact, being possessed. The ghost kid was instantly by Sam's side, standing over him and Dean protectively.
"Back off." His voice carried a different tone than the one it had last night. It was much deeper and weighed down by a suddenly serious intensity.
"I don't want them," the demon said, its attention fixed on the ghost boy.
"So, then… get out of that guy's body!" the boy didn't back down. Instead he growled, "What kind of ghost are you, anyways, having to overshadow people to get anything done, huh?"
"Overshadow?" it asked, amused. "And who says I'm a ghost?"
"Wh-what do you mean?" the ghost kid asked, confusedly dropping his battle stance. It soon became clear to Sam that the ghost in front of him didn't know what a demon was (as strange as that sounded) and, for that matter, that the rest of the town didn't, either. All they knew was ghosts.
Slowly, so as not to attract any attention from the demon, Sam slid his hand across the dirty tile floor to reach his gun. Unfortunately, the two brothers weren't fully prepared for a demon. But fortunately, Sam possessed excellent observational skills, and he noticed that the demon seemed to want the ghost kid unharmed. And, luckily, they had prepared for ghosts.
"What do you think I mean, you stupid boy?" the demon growled as Sam had just managed to get a good grip on the handle of his gun. All he needed now was the right moment. "Everyone's after you, now that the war has started. You and the older man like you, though for now, you're the ideal target. You're the perfect weapon."
"Older man—oof!" the kid was interrupted when Sam suddenly stood up and grabbed him from behind, wrapping his arm around his throat, pressing a gun to the boy's head with his other hand. The kid gasped in his grip when he felt the cold metal of the barrel of the gun brush the side of his forehead.
"Don't do anything, or I'll shoot, demon," Sam said threateningly. For several moments, the room was completely silent as they all stood at an impasse.
"…Clever," the demon finally commented. "But just so you know, I'm not just any demon," he spat, crossing the policeman's arms. "I'm much more powerful. And, alright, I'll admit it, I wasn't really supposed to kill anyone. I was sent on a mission by our leader to capture the perfect weapon, and I got a little… carried away." It grinned sadistically. "And now, I'll not only have the weapon to bring back, I'll have the Winchester boys too!"
"Winchester boys-?" the ghost kid managed to choke out, but Sam tightened his grip on the boy's neck, successfully preventing him from finishing his question. He cocked the gun and readied to shoot in order to show the demon that he wasn't joking around. He really would shoot, if it was necessary. Upon hearing the small click from the gun, the demon straightened.
"Fine. I'll go…but I'll be back," he said menacingly and suddenly, a black cloud of smoke left the body of the policeman as the demon left its host. Sam and the boy in his death grip stared motionlessly at the fallen man in front of them that the demon had left behind, until the silence was interrupted by Dean.
"Damnit, Sam!" Dean called from behind him. "Got away again!"
Surprised by the demon's actions and Dean's voice, Sam loosened his grip on the ghost kid and lowered his gun. The boy took it as an opportunity to escape and phased through Sam's arm, projecting himself a few feet away. He turned in the air and hovered there, looking between Sam and the unconscious policeman.
"What was that thing?" he asked, cautiously keeping both of the brothers' weapons in plain sight.
"A demon," Sam sniffed, raising the gun back up at the boy.
The boy gulped and raised his hands in the air as a gesture to convey his innocence. "Why was it after you?" Dean asked, motioning to the policeman's unconscious body.
The ghost kid let out a nervous giggle. "Heh, beats me… wait, what did you call it? A demon?" he asked, continuing when Sam nodded. "That's…. Where did it go?"
"You'd think that you of any of us would know," Dean retorted, imitating Sam and raising his gun. Sam nodded.
"We're going to exorcise it as soon as we see it again," he said, his finger tightening on the trigger of his gun. "But for right now, you'll do fine."
Bang!
He pulled the trigger back and Danny Phantom yelped and dodged. He turned back for one last you-can't-catch-me smirk at the two brothers and disappeared, fading out of sight. Dean exhaled angrily, furious that yet another being had gotten out of their reach, as Sam looked around the room for any sign of the ghost.
"What'sa matter, can't catch what you can't see?" a voice sounded from the corner of the room. Dean didn't hesitate this time, he let loose four consecutive blasts from his gun. He stood, panting, his gun smoking and the room was suddenly completely silent.
"Dean," Sam whispered, quietly breaking the silence. "Think you got him?"
Dean slowly lowered his gun and turned to look at Sam. "…No. We woulda seen something."
When Danny saw that his blond teacher was actually going to shoot, he immediately phased through the ceiling as fast as he could. As soon as he was far enough away from the Nasty Burger, he checked his watch and saw that it was almost dinner time. His parents would probably be worried if he wasn't back by then, and he needed to call Sam and Tucker to tell them he was okay. He didn't slow down as he started in the direction of his house, contemplating the events that had just taken place. He wondered just what, exactly, a demon was, and how it could overshadow people when it was just a cloud of blackish smoke. He hadn't felt his ghost sense go off before he got there, so much as he had felt an incoming rush of heat, which he had ignored. He supposed that it was just like his ghost sense, just reversed.
He flew over FentonWorks ready to change in the dark alleyway behind his house when he saw several police cars parked in the middle of the road, completely blocking it. With a sickening wave of dread, he saw several policemen walking around, and he thought he even saw his mother on the front steps. He was too far away to see what she was doing, however, and he quickly touched down behind his house and changed to see what was happening.
He walked around the corner of his house and up to his mother, avoiding any policemen.
"Mom, what's going on?" he asked, looking around at the police cars and men in both sheriff and federal uniforms. He was taken by surprise when he was engulfed by a giant hug that practically crushed his ribcage.
"My baby, oh, my baby," he heard his mom cry. He felt her body shaking and quickly pulled away from her. When he looked into her face, he noticed her eyes were red and full of tears. She was crying. His mom never cried.
"Mom, you're crying," he said softly and was once again crushed by another hug.
"Danny," she cried again, and he could feel the sobs wrack her body. "Oh, Danny," she repeated. "I thought you were gone, too. We thought you were gone."
"Gone? Gone where?" he asked, confused. What was going on?
"Son," one of the officers tapped him on the shoulder and he broke out of his mother's embrace to face the man. "We have terrible news. Your father…."
"Dad…?"
The policeman sighed heavily and sadly looked him in the eyes. "I'm sorry, kid, your father's dead."
It was amazing how, after years of fighting ghosts and repelling ghost hunters, all it really took was a few simple words to bring his world crashing down.
