Uhm, hi. So, this has been sitting in the corner of my ideas box for, like, a LONG time. I wrote it, but it's short as heck. I have something else on it, but it's rough and sloppy, and I haven't written on it in, like forever. I'll probably add something else later. Maybe.

So, wow. I don't really have this much commentary on this one. Except that I have no idea what I'm doing. ENJOY!

"What is it Garth?" Dean's harsh voice filtered through the phone speaker and into the silence of Garth's guest room. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Sorry," Garth whispered. "Sorry. But I have a bit of a problem."

"Why are you whispering," Dean grunted, seemingly starting to attempt to wake fully enough to listen to Garth. "What's wrong? Where are you?"

"Amity Park," Garth explained, glancing around the dark corners of his room nervously. He felt under his pillow for the .45 he had under it, but knew it probably wouldn't do much against this thing if he was right.

"What?" Dean said, sounding displeased. "That town with all the ghost lies? Why? You did't actually fall for that, did you?"

"No," Garth hissed in a whisper. "There's a hunting family here. The Fentons. They study the 'ghosts' and actually can be useful sometimes. They don't know about anything but ghosts, but they helped explain the basics of ghosts to me."

"So?" Dean interjected impatiently. He had every right to be, Garth thought as he glanced at the glowing red numbers of the electronic clock next to his bed. It was four in the morning here, and probably close to that time wherever Sam and Dean were.

"The Fentons are a family of four I've known for around four years now. Maddie and Jack are the parents, and Jazz are Danny are the kids."

"I'm failing to see the problem here," Dean drawled.

"There's this thing about being a werewolf," Garth continued, and Dean stilled over the phone. "With all the combined senses that humans don't feel as clearly, and a sixth sense, we're, you could say, a lot more perceptive on the supernatural."

"Yeah," Dean urged him to continue, impatience edging on his tone once more. "What's so important you have to call at," there was a pause, "Three in the morning, Garth?"

"I was afraid to call any other time," Garth hissed into the receiver. "He might have heard me. Because I've known Danny since he was eleven, and he's always been normal. But this visit, Danny smelled different. Dean, Danny smelled like death. Like he'd been dead for a while, but his body wasn't deteriorating."

This admission shocked Dean into momentary silence. When he regained his wit, "So, what, like a zombie?"

"Or it's possession." Garth gulped at the possibility. "I've seen a few weird things going on with him, with his eyes. I don't know what the hell I'm dealing with, but it sure as sugar isn't Danny. At least not anymore. I could really use your guys' help."

Dean paused on the end of the line for a while, and Garth felt a spike of nervousness. Then, "We'll be there by nine," and the line went dead.

Garth ended the transmission and set his cell phone down on the bedside table, exhaling nervously. A simple phone call should not be that terrifying, but actually speaking the words aloud that Danny might be something other than human made it seem all too real. And thinking about Danny coming out of the shadows with black eyes or razor teeth was more than a little disconcerting. Garth was going to have a restless night tonight.

*smiles innocently* So I'll just leave it there (and probably never come back). Kidding, I might come back to it later...maybe. I've got like four hundred words on Garth and the Winchesters meeting up in the morning and being like WTF, but I haven't written on it in, like, forever and a day. More like four weeks. Which is like forever. Kind of.

So...yeah. I also thought I might subtly *cough*obvious*cough* note that I got a tumblr. I can't do anything. I am literally the worst blogger in the history of blogging. The word "blogger" should not even apply to me. But since we all know how much I am into Danny Phantom, I thought it anybody wanted me to follow them like an innocent, confused sheep, you could send me one of those ask-y thingies. The url is just ittickleslikecrazy, because I figure having the same name on everything is nice and consistent. Like, literally, you can google me and about a billion pieces of shitty writing will come up and smack you in the face. Don't do it, brah.

UNTIL NEXT TIME!