'I'm home', Dash tried to say as he pushed open the front door, but the words never made their way past his throat. He already knew the house was empty. Sighing, he rubbed the side of his face tiredly and glanced towards the kitchen. The fridge, with its large collection of alphabet magnets, gleamed in the mid-afternoon light. 'Gone to hospital', read one of the messages, multicoloured letters forming an erratic rainbow.

Dash grimaced and pointedly ignored his mother's note, hoping that neither of them would come home soon. He needed time to think. He needed time to figure out his next move, because it sure as hell wasn't going to be easy.

Running his hand along the wall, Dash let out a large yawn. His voice sounded lower, lacking the nasal sneer he'd spent so long perfecting. It felt wrong. Catching sight of his reflection in the dim bathroom mirror, Dash corrected himself. Everything felt wrong.

His clothes were too loose. The shoes he bought just a month before were several sizes too large for his feet. His letterman's jacket hung around his once-broad shoulders like a kid playing dress-ups. It didn't belong.

Even his skin was too tight, and his teeth pressed up against his tongue in a way that it had never done before. His eyesight had changed, allowing him to pick up differences he may have previously missed. A wine stain on the edge of the stairs, faint scratches on his parents' door- from Pookey, he presumed- and a chip in the antique vase outside his bedroom. None of it was important, but Dash drew it all in with the eagerness of a dying man- desperate to get one last glimpse at a world he may never see again.

But that was ridiculous.

… Wasn't it?

His door slammed closed and a shrill laughter filled the room soon after. It took Dash quite some time to realise the noise was coming from him. That wild noise, animalistic and hysterical, surely couldn't come from a human. Surely it couldn't be coming from him- it was too savage. But as that thought sobered him up, Dash's mouth snapped shut with an audible clack, leaving his laughter to die in the surrounding air.

There was a mirror on the inside of his cupboard. Dozens of accusing, shiny eyes tracked his movements, each bear glaring at him suspiciously, as if to ask 'What're you doing here?' Shuddering despite himself, Dash pushed aside his spare jackets and gaped, dismayed, at his alien reflection.

He was pale, and his face was wider, but softer around the edges. His blue eyes were larger, and they only widened in horror as he took in the reality that was literally staring back at him. And black. His hair was black. He could practically feel it growing out of his skin.

"Eugh!" Dash cried out in rage, his fist- significantly smaller than he remembered- flying out to shatter the mirror. Shards of light glittered as the glass tumbled down from the broken frame, tinkling on the cupboard floor and covering a few unfortunate bears.

Dash was beyond caring. Stumbling back a few steps, he barely made it to the bed before his knees gave out. A loud groan escaped him as he massaged his aching temples. Maybe he just needed to sleep. Maybe it was all a hallucinogenic dream; brought about by the numerous drugs the hospital had dosed him up on.

Yet, with his stomach rolling with nausea, Dash knew it was anything but.

DPDPDPDP

Dash was completely asleep- dead to the world- with his mouth open wide and guttural snores jolting his slow heart back into action whenever it decided to neglect its job. Danny could feel his host's relaxation. He could even see into Dash's dreams, if he wanted to, but he was already guilty enough. There was no need for him to use Dash anymore than was necessary.

He was almost out of time. Danny didn't know where that knowledge came from, but it whispered at him from the corner of his mind like a persistent itch.

'Listen to me!' it seemed to be saying. 'I'm important!'

But, in the same way a boat avoids a lighthouse at night, Danny avoided the blinking warning in the back of his head. Though… was 'head' the right word? Even with so much time to spare, he couldn't figure out what he was. That caused many philosophical debates when the topic came around.

Danny couldn't see anything. Dash's eyes were closed tightly, his face pressed against his quilt as if it were the only thing anchoring him in a world worse that his dream. Slight pressure forced itself upon Danny's cheek as well- a side effect of sharing a body. The link was becoming stronger every second. Stronger and stronger and determined and eager and greedy…

Danny pulled back with a gasp, feeling Dash's heart rate increase just slightly. He wanted it to be his, Danny Fenton's heart, surrounded by a shell that was most definitely Danny Fenton, and not Dash Baxter. Dash could disappear off the face of the earth, for all he cared. After all- who would miss a bully? It would be simple to pretend he hadn't noticed how Dash's appearance had altered. It wouldn't be too difficult to maintain that pretence until the process was complete, would it?

Unknowingly, Danny's soul was reaching out with thin, wispy fingers, latching on to anything he could find. He could make it his, the vessel. It was just… waiting for him…

Dash's heart beat once…

Twice…

Thrice…

And then it stopped.

AN:

Hey! pale-blue11 here!

Yeah, it's been a while. Over a year, as Dark Angel Maybe pointed out. I'm really sorry about that! I hope there're still people who're interested in this story.

This is a pretty short chapter, but I really wanted to get it out- mainly to apologise. I haven't been able to write much fanfiction lately :( Anyway! I hope you all liked this chapter despite the length

Have a nice day!

pale-blue11