Hello again. Remember when I had a Criminal Minds/Danny Phantom fan fiction and was going to (probably) kill everyone? I lied. I have the newer and better variation right here. This is definitely a newly revised version (AND A SEQUEL) of a crossover I've long wanted to write.

Readers do not need to read the prequel to this: just know that Danny's parents know his identity, Vlad has lost his marbles pretty badly, and we're doing the BAU variation with Tara and no JJ because that's sadly how I roll these days. This is going to be a bit of a rough ride, so uh. Remain seated, and the flight attendants will happily come around with beverages and treats.

I do not own Criminal Minds or Danny Phantom in any fashion. (THIS IS ALSO BEING CROSS-POSTED ON AO3 FOR YOUR KNOWLEDGE.)

1. Into the Deep

Ghost Zone.
Timekeeper's Lair.

It was a containment facility, in a way; the ghost kept a watch over the creatures and ghosts of the darkest depths, apart from one that remained in the furthest and darkest corner of the room. Each creature was a piece of humanity's darkest times- from serial killers to deadly ghosts, among other things. The room was supposed to be impossible to enter, unless you had a way inside that no others knew about. It was dark, except for the light under each prison that showcased who the creature was.

The figure that floated through the room seemed to have acquired access, and it was not from the ghost that guarded the place. It remained silently, slowly passing by many a containment chamber with eyes glowing in the dim light. They were narrowed, the ghost musing over each subject with his body covered in a cape down to his calves. He had long hair that was three inches past his shoulders, a far cry from what once was vampiric in nature. When he smiled, fangs could be seen.

He rarely smiled now, however. Not since what had happened two months ago.

No one knew what had happened that day at the apartment, and he was going to keep it that way for as long as he damn well could. The individual was unsure of how long that charade could be kept, but it did not matter. He would make sure it stayed that way, no matter what happened.

He paused finally in front of a test chamber, floating in front of it with those narrowed red eyes. The ghost floated in the chamber, human-like with what appeared to be several wounds to the head. There were multiple stabs to his body; the man could not tell if they were self-inflicted or not. He folded his arms, staring at the man for what seemed like the longest time before looking down.

'George Foyet – the Boston Reaper. Thirty-six known victims. Volatile and dangerous.'

The figure would have smiled, his lip twitching upwards for a moment. Instead, he exhaled slowly and continued to watch the murderer float in his chamber. "Eff-thirty-six. How appropriate," he murmured to himself. "Couldn't have been more obvious, I suppose."

"Neither could you showing up," came a dull voice.

The ghost closed his eyes, remaining in front of the chamber with no smile on his lips. He should have guessed that this would happen, but he was hoping on a whim that it would not. Beggars could not be choosers. "You do have terrible timing, for being the Master of Time. I suppose that can't be helped, though."

Clockwork did not move from the front entrance, his appearance changing to that of a young man. "You aren't supposed to be here, much less be having access. Playing with codes just proves how desperate you are to make him suffer for what is your own doing."

The figure clenched a fist; red energy formed around it, not at all the magenta it was once before. "I never asked your opinion, time ghost. What happens between me and the boy is none of your concern."

"I wish I could believe that, but you and I both know that that is a lie, and I know what you will do in the future when you continue down this path." Clockwork frowned gently at this. "…you can still change-"

A snort was heard, and eyes closed. "Leave that for the other timeline variations," he interrupted. "I started down this path for a reason, and I'm not turning back. After all, what was it that Bloodraven told Bran?" He allowed himself a small smile finally, opening his eyes to gaze at the murderer. "'Darkness will make you strong'?"

Clockwork would have snorted himself. "When did you ever read Game of Thrones?"

"Never have. But that quote does invoke thoughts, you know."

Clockwork floated between the tubes, approaching the man with his staff in hand. The energy never disappeared from the intruder's fingertips, growing more intense the closer he got. "You can try to stop me, but you know how that will also turn out," the intruder growled softly. "Very poorly with more than a few of these individuals on the loose again."

"I do. I also know this isn't bad for just Danny… but the rest of the city, as well as another individual." Clockwork held the staff in both hands, gazing at the other steadily. "You are playing a dangerous game by doing this, you realize. Manipulation of the system, corruption and bribery… need I go on?"

Vlad Plasmius turned to the timekeeper; his hand clenched into a fist. "Even if you stop time, I will do this. I will show that child a villain that he so desperately seems to need in his story." His eyes flickered with anger. "I will be that villain, and I will be the best damn villain he has ever had."

Clockwork remained motionless. "Whatever puts your mind at ease, Vladimir. But you have already been defeated in such a category, and that will become apparent someday."

"Tch. Whatever puts your mind at ease, time ghost. Your confidence will be your undoing."

Without warning, the hybrid raised a hand and shot an energy ray at the wall. The panel he had hit sparked with a bright green hue, and all the other test chambers went dark except for the one the two beings floated in front of. It remained lit up with a dim blue-and-white tone before smoke began to escape from the bottom; the test tube glass-like substance disappeared, leaving the ghost floating in front of the other two beings.

The ghost opened his eyes, blinking slowly and groaning. Clockwork gripped his staff tightly; he knew what would happen. He knew what was going to happen, what could possibly happen. All the timelines had this as a possibility, but this one made it happen.

This was quite a twist and a divergence on a new path.

"…you really did think I was dangerous," the 'ghost' drawled quietly. It was weaker than expected. "Throw me in a chamber I can't even get out of, sleepin' for years before some wacko decides to bust me out."

Clockwork merely tilted his head. "Escaping from the warden's prison is not a feat we take lightly here. I suppose we should have guessed you'd do such a thing those years ago, but alas. Catching and trapping you was quite the annoyance as well." He frowned. "Especially since we cannot even consider you a ghost anymore."

George Foyet grinned at this, ducking his head. The Boston Reaper loved the attention, the encouragement- that is what he called it, anyway. "Well, that's a nice little surprise. What's the new name for it?"

"I would much prefer the term wraith," Clockwork explained sourly. "Knowing your past deeds as such and what you have done to humanity and those who were closest to you… as a serial killing ghost, you still have those old tendencies and haven't exactly moved on from your grudges and obsession."

The newly deemed wraith chuckled softly. "You have no idea, Clocky."

Plasmius closed his eyes, listening to the two of them speaking before it faded into the background. There was so much to do in such a little span of time, and he knew it was going to be painful to do it while also keeping his eyes on a murderous fiend. What he knew about the wraith was little- there was not much to be said in the police files about what he had done besides the thirty-six murders.

There had been a little segment about the Federal Bureau of Investigation coming in after he had come back years later and one whom Foyet had obsessed with. After that, it went dark.

Sure, he had been killed in a fit of self-defense, as they called it. Something about that felt off, however. He took someone with him before he died, and that was all.

Besides Foyet, though, there was another little problem: Danny Fenton.

The reveal had been a hell of a spectacle. Truthfully, he did not know the extent of Daniel's anger- but the same applied to the boy. He had no idea how pissed Plasmius was about things, and it showed in a fight that had been their most brutal one to date. While the boy was terrified of such anger, Plasmius had embraced it, opting to keep his new appearance with the rage flowing through his body.

He had not gone to visit the boy in those two months, for a few reasons.

"Are you two finished?" he finally spoke irritably. "I do have a business meeting to attend. For real, this time."

Foyet and Clockwork looked over at the hybrid, the killer snorting. "Mister Fancy Pants over here has to go and do actual people stuff; ooh, so scary."

Plasmius closed his eyes again. "And you are in no condition at all to go around killing and haunting a city that seems to be full of 'urban legends,' according to the internet. For the time being, might I make one suggestion, and have it been that you come to Wisconsin and get your silly little habits back in order so I can keep an eye on you?"

Clockwork never moved. "You will have to understand that your actions will have consequences when you do this."

"Oh please. You won't even stop me. I know you, Clockwork… letting the timeline along its little path until you deem it unnecessary as such and work to fix it." Plasmius's hands stopped glowing, opening his eyes with a dangerous red glint. "So why don't you let this timeline play out and see what could happen from this?"

The timekeeper kept his hands on his staff before lowering it slowly. His eyes narrowed as well; he knew what would happen. He very well knew what could happen- knowledge was a funny thing like that.

Foyet folded his arms. "When you two idiots are done staring, I'd like to get started back to Wisconsin until I can actually start- y'know. Murdering people again. Even if it ain't Boston this time."

Federal Bureau of Investigation's Office.
Quantico, Virginia.

"If you can get Aaron Hotchner away from his desk, I'll give you twenty bucks," David Rossi challenged playfully, looking up at the office. "That's not a bet you're going to be winning any time soon, though."

Derek Morgan chuckled, shaking his head and flashing a grin to his coworker. "Hey now. Be nice. Woman's got charm that none of us seem to have these days."

It was a quiet week in Quantico, Virginia; the Behavioral Analysis Unit's A-team could attest to that as they all worked on a batch of papers handed off to them by the new section chief. Spencer Reid gently fiddled around with a Rubix cube, raising a brow at the other two men's words and shook his head. "Really going to put her on the spot with a trick that got me doing papers for three weeks? That's hardly fair."

Tara Lewis chuckled, glancing up from her own stack to the office above them. "If I take that bet, will you guys shut up about it and not tell JJ?"

Morgan smirked. "No promises- she is on maternity leave after all. Gotta keep her in the loop about things, y'know?"

"Sure, because office gossip is definitely 'in the loop'," Tara retorted in air quotes. "Have you guys already finished with your stuff?"

Reid raised his hand.

"Besides you."

The hand lowered.

Morgan shook his head. "It's been dead enough all week; can't remember the last time we actually had some quiet time like this. Don't get me wrong, it's nice. But something feels… I dunno."

"Off," Rossi suggested.

Reid shrugged lightly. "Morgan has a point, though. When was the last time we had some days without a case? I think it's about nine days, twenty hours—"

Morgan shot Reid a look now. 'Don't start.'

The man shut up again, turning back to the Rubix cube. "Anyway, we could've used some of our vacation time, but. I guess it's a little late for that, right?"

"Just a tad," Rossi admitted. "Look at how much we've stacked up after all. I'm trying to give some to Penelope, for the love of god. Cruz said he'd look into it, but that was a month ago; hasn't gotten back to me since."

"Speakin' of Baby Girl… where is she?" Morgan asked curiously.

Tara glanced over. "In the Batcave. Said something about possible records being downloaded from another server. She's looking into it."

She was doing more than looking into it. Penelope Garcia was digging, searching with fingers flying across the keyboard and eyes scanning the screens with the door shut and the computers whirring at loud volumes. She moved her head slowly, looking from side to side and glancing up every now and again at different places to try and verify what she had just seen.

She had already sent an email to her boss about the matter, but she had not received a response yet. She was almost expecting him to knock on the door and barge in at some point. That was not in character for him, but this seemed like a good opportunity to do so with the knowledge she had given him. Her fingers continued across the keyboard before she froze for a moment.

' GFBoston . pdf : Last opened: 23:58:12, 08/01/2020.'

That… could not be right. Right?

Garcia inhaled softly before clicking the link and watching it download. The file opened on her screen.

Nothing.

Blank.

"…oh no. No no no no… what the hell…?!" Garcia muttered, fingers flying across the keyboard again and shaking her head. "That can't be…"

Several screens populated with various titles, all related to one aspect. Each one she opened, the pit in her stomach got larger and larger. Someone knew what they were doing, deleting the files and documents after the fact when they got whatever information they wanted. She gritted her teeth, searching through every piece until she got a hit.

It could have been considered less than a hit, but she would take whatever string she could get.

"He's back."

The analyst stared at the two words for what seemed like the longest minute before there was a knock on her door. She squeezed her eyes shut and quickly shook her head before standing up and straightening her dress. "I need to make so many changes with this firewall, I swear to god…"

Garcia opened the door, fidgeting with her nails as Aaron Hotchner stood in the doorway with that carefully blank stare. She looked back at her computer and to her boss once again. "You got my email."

"I did. What happened?"

"I- okay, there was a glitch in the system last night, and someone managed to hack through the FBI's firewall to get access to files, and nothing was touched except certain ones that shouldn't have been touched, but they were and now they're like… floating in space or something like the imposters in Among Us and—"

Hotchner closed his eyes. "Garcia."

"Right, right, the point, get to the point," she rambled, gesturing to her screens. "The point is everyone's files about cases wasn't touched except." She bit her lip. "Except one."

Now he was watching her, tilting his head slightly to the side expectantly.

"Specifically… George Foyet."