Disclaimer: I wish I owned Danny Phantom! Desiree: -turns me into Butch Hartman- AHHHHHHHHH! CHANGE ME BACK CHANGE ME BACK! -is changed back-

This was written for Dannymay 2019, originally posted to tumblr, for day 4 (ectoplasm) and day 7 (broken). People seemed to really like it there so I cleaned it up a bit and added a bit more to post here and on AO3. There's no current plan to continue it, but if there's interest I'm willing to see what I can do.


It was like there was a ghost murder in his home.

Could ghosts even be murdered? Jack wasn't sure, but the amount of ectoplasm everywhere unnerved him a bit, especially given Maddie's absence for the week, on a college tour with Jazz.

The man had stepped into his home with a bag of parts for the newest Fenton gadget in a bag clutched in his right hand. Balanced in his other hand was some pizza for him and Danny, a DVD rental on top. It was old fashioned, sure, but Jack was hoping that Danny would appreciate the gesture and have interest in watching the DVD with him over some pizza. Some good father/son time.

Nothing had seemed out of place in the beginning. Jack managed to open the door with his pizza-less hand, and he closed the door behind him. It was still pretty bright out, and so the lights shining in through the windows made it unnecessary for him to feel as if he had to fumble for a switch just yet. He navigated to the kitchen just fine. He used the pizza box, pushing it against the wall to turn the light on, and that's when he had first noticed all the ectoplasm.

All over the floor, the soft glowing green lit up his kitchen floor, going from somewhere in his house into the basement. The pure amount of the ghostly blood chilled Jack, and he felt cold. Whether it was the actual presence of a ghost, or knowing that a ghost was in his home, he wasn't sure. There was so much ectoplasm. Was it trying to get home to the Ghost Zone through his portal?

He stepped forward, putting his stuff on the kitchen table as he began to inspect the ectoplasm left behind. Curiously, it didn't seem as thought a fight had happened. Nothing seemed out of place as if two ghosts were struggling. No knocked over appliances, no ectoplasm on the walls or splattered anywhere. There was only one set of footprints. Not that it mattered. Ghosts could fly. Wait, they could fly. Why was this ghost walking, dragging, his feet through his home?

Speaking of those prints, they were distinct. A boot, familiar but not a shoe Jack could immediately identify. But it haunted him to realize that this ghost wasn't going towards his basement. To Jack's horror, it was going further into his home.

But why? What the hell happened?

Jack looked glanced around the kitchen briefly. He almost preferred that a ghost fight had happened. A ghost fight happening within a civilian home he could understand. This? A ghost going away from the Ghost Zone? That was something Jack just couldn't explain. He decided to follow the trail, slowly and daring to not make a sound.

It went into the hallway. Even more ectoplasm, but this time it was more than just a trail. It was on the wall, in the form of a clear handprint. This ghost could barely walk. They must be too weak to fly. The handprint jumped a foot or so for a while until this trail went to the stairs, and ectoplasm followed the hand as it slid down. The ghost had fallen at the bottom of the stairs.

Jack felt his heart beginning to race. Where was this ghost even going? The trail didn't suddenly stop there. It continued upwards, even deeper into his home and towards where his children would be. A small surge of anger bubbled over the fear. How dare they? How dare this ghost come into his home and dare to tread this close towards his kids? He pulled out an ecto-gun, and he began to go up the stairs as quietly as he could.

The anger melted into mild concern as he took note of something. There were no more clear and distinct bootprints on the stairs. Instead, it was small indentations and handprints on the stairs, only the toes of the boot, and more ectoplasm than ever was coating the carpet. This ghost crawled up the stairs. Jack had no clue if that was a creepy, predator move or a strong sign of the injuries of the ghost.

They had to be so wounded. There was so much ectoplasm. If this was human blood, there would be a corpse at the top of the stairs. It was a concerning amount. Jack didn't think it was even possible to feel sympathy for a ghost. Not that he felt much. More than anything, he was baffled as to why an injured ghost was crawling around a ghost hunter's home. Especially up the stairs.

At the top of the stairs, his stomach dropped.

The trail, an obvious continuous crawling, went straight into Danny's room. Jack rushed for the door, swinging it open with no hesitation, and he stared.

His back to the man, Phantom laid on his son's bed, shivering violently. Jack knew the familiar snow-white hair of the ghost and his form from past encounters. The ghosts were curled up, feet pulled slightly to his chest. Ectoplasm had stained the planetary sheets terribly, ectoplasm dripping off and collecting in a puddle around the bed. Jack turned the light on, and he took a few steps forward. Phantom didn't turn to face him, just continuing to shake. There was no way that Phantom did not hear him. The ghost hunter was never really known for stealthy attacks. Jack checked his ecto-gun, and he kept a finger on the trigger. Just in case.

"Phantom," he spoke boldly and assertive, stepping forward more.

Instead of any real response, he got a sickening gurgle noise in response. The source of the ectoplasm had been from Phantom. Obviously, but another step forward, and Jack took in a haunting realization. Phantom's jumpsuit had been cut partly away, and his back was exposed. It was covered in ectoplasm.

"Phantom!" Jack barked, becoming irked by the lack of real response.

But yet he was afraid. Why was he here? And shivering?

He ignored the fear as he came to the ghost's side. Surprisingly, the ectoplasm on Phantom's back wasn't from wounds on his back. He must have gotten it from laying in his own ectoplasm, as it looked dry and stuck to him. His chest and stomach told another story.

Painful looking burns and cuts were all over him. Some cuts were random, but one cut in particular caught Jack's eye due to the sicking fact that it stood for and due to it being the obvious source of all the ectoplasm. It was a long, shallow cut from the throat to the lower stomach, and somebody had begun the process of peeling away the skin. Somebody had tried to skin Phantom.

His eyes locked with Phantom's, and he wished they hadn't. He looked terrified and distressed, like a trapped and hunted animal with a lot of tears. Was this the Guys in White? No…his heroes weren't known for doing this. Why would they skin a ghost? That was so unnecessarily...cruel. Even if ghosts didn't feel pain. There was no scientific reason to skin a ghost that he could think of. Not when they could look at you like that.

Phantom's mouth opened to speak, but all that came out was ectoplasm and bubbled garbles. Some ectoplasm leaked out of Phantom's mouth from the corners, slowly dripping down. The skinning attempt must have punctured his throat, but his jaw looked…crushed and dislocated. His throat had bruising too. What the fuck happened to him? Phantom closed his eyes a bit, and more tears were falling. Ghosts didn't feel pain.

Or at least…they really shouldn't.

Sympathy hit Jack like a truck. He instantly shushed Phantom in a soft, soothing tone. His ecto-gun was placed on Danny's nightstand, temporarily forgotten. His free hand went to the teen's hair, lightly stroking it comfortingly. Phantom, oddly enough, seemed to instantly relax, laying back and closing his eyes fully. Ghost or not, this level of violence disturbed Jack than he had expected it to.

"I, uh, think I have something that might…dull the pain," Jack told him quietly. "Then I'll see what I could do." Phantom opened his eyes, and he looked puzzled. His mouth opened, and his jaw slacked, more ectoplasm oozing out as he coughed and garbled, trying to speak. Jack lightly shushed him again. "Just…try to rest."

Phantom didn't try to talk anymore, his eyes just flickering shut once more. His chest didn't move. Normal behavior, for a ghost, but to see Phantom laying so statue-like was spooky. He looked truly dead, especially with how pale the normally tanned and energetic the teen looked in comparison. Regardless, he felt compelled to shift Phantom's head properly onto a pillow, as well as pull an extra blanket over him. Phantom didn't move or make any sounds. It was creepy.

Jack stepped into the hallway, and a reminder of just how much ectoplasm was all over his home, and how Phantom was crawling up the stairs, hit him. Why did he come here?

He began to slowly descent down, and he pulled out his phone. He hit Maddie's name, and he anxiously waited for her voice. He rounded the corner and into the kitchen. He paused for a moment as he looked around. Cleaning this place up was going to be a nightmare. Whenever Danny got home, he'd have him get started.

Jack opened the door to his basement, and he felt his stomach twist a bit. He could tell Phantom walked up these stairs. But unlike the other stairs, there was no evidence of him needing to crawl. No handprints on the wall from him struggling to stand or walk. But there was still plenty of ectoplasm, enough that it was still actively dripping down the stairs and was nearly impossible for Jack to walk around. He had to settle for carefully walking through it.

Maddie's voice finally came through, and Jack immediately spoke before she could greet him.

"Hey Mads. Sorry, this is kind of important, so I hate to cut you off, but I have, a uh, kind of weird question. It comes with a long explanation that I'm not sure if I have time for? Phantom's upstairs in Danny's room, he's uh, kinda got, uh, ectoplasm. Everywhere. He seems hurt really bad. I…I kind of want to help him. What should I do?"