It's two in the morning at the Manson house, and Danny can't sleep.
Tucker fell asleep first, crashing hard right at the stroke of midnight. Sam followed about an hour later, yawning a groggy 'g'night' before rolling over in her sleeping bag on the home theatre floor and sinking into sleep.
Danny can't help but envy them.
They don't have to deal with the feeling of some ghost poking relentlessly at their consciousness, stabbing at their minds, and giving them throbbing migraines. They don't know what it's like to have to listen to a long-dead old man hissing insults and snarling within the walls as he drifts menacingly outside the room.
If his friendly ghost hadn't been here, he's certain that the angry one would've torn him to ribbons hours ago. The thought isn't super comforting, but one thing that does ease his anxiety just a tiny bit is the feeling of his friendly ghost's aura gently poking at his own mind, filtering contentment into his soul and body. It's nice, actually.
He tries once again to roll over and close his eyes.
As soon as he does, the angry ghost jabs his consciousness into his head painfully again, shrieking, LEAVE. GET OUT. LEAVELEAVELEAVELEAVEMINEMINEMINEMINE
Danny does his best to block it out. He sticks his fingers in his ears, shoves his head under his pillow, blasts music through his earbuds until his ears ring… none of it works.
At 2:35 in the morning, Danny tugs at his hair in irritation, then wriggles out of his own sleeping bag and rubs at his eyes.
I guess I'll have to deal with it myself.
Friendly Ghost's voice creeps tentatively into his mind, like a puppy approaching their human for the first time.
Are you alright, Danny?
"No, I'm not." He sighs quietly so as not to wake Sam and Tucker. "Look. I don't know what I'm doing, but I can't live like this. How do I make the ghost go the hell away?"
The ghost turns to face him with wide, puzzled eyes, staring at him for a long time before reaching up to run a hand through his mistlike hair and replying,
I don't know much, but I might be able to help you chase it off for a bit. Or something.
Danny rises to his feet and grabs his phone. "Well, that's better than nothing. What do I do?"
Follow me.
Carefully stepping over the slumbering figures of his friends, he makes his way across the home theatre and pushes the doors open. As soon as he does, that icy feeling rockets through his blood and he doubles over with a shiver and a gasp. The ghost turns around, worry in his face.
What's wrong?
"N-nothing, it's just…" He trails off as the air in the hall ahead of them shimmers and twists into the form of some other apparition.
Involuntarily, he hisses out a quiet, "Fuck."
To Danny, the thing mostly looks like the skeletal, worm-eaten remains of a long-dead corpse, with a few strands of wispy hair sticking out of whatever rotten, green skin's left on its skull. Hollow, black eyes and a gaping mouth pulse with black ichor, dripping on the floor but not staining the plush red carpets below. His stomach lurches, and Danny slaps a hand over his mouth as he feels all that junk food threatening to come back up.
GET OUT.
The ghost's voice grates on Danny's brain like nails on a chalkboard, screeching, chafing, burning, biting-
"What did I do?!" Danny snaps before he can stop himself. "What's your deal?!"
NOT HUMAN. NOT SPIRIT. HALFANDHALFANDHALFANDHALFGETOUTGETOUTOUTOUT
Danny, it's not worth the effort-
"Give me one reason why I should leave!" Danny shouts back as his mind screams at him to shut up.
He jumps almost a solid foot in the air as the door behind him creaks open.
Danny whips around, fully expecting to see some other spectre… but ends up looking into the faces of a very groggy Sam and Tucker.
"What's going on?" Sam yawns.
Tucker rubs at his eyes. "If you're gonna deal with ghosts or whatever, could you keep it down? I've gotta get at least 10 hours of beauty rest."
LEAVE.
Biting back a hiss of pain, Danny wipes at his sweaty forehead and turns back around to face the angry ghost still watching them from down the hall. "I couldn't sleep because that was screaming in my head and giving me a migraine."
"Danny, we can't see whatever that is." Sam grumbles and moves forward to stand beside him.
That action alone seems to spur the ghost into a blind rage, because all of a sudden, a blood-curdling wail explodes in his head and Danny lets out an involuntary cry of pain, curling into himself, staggering backwards, clutching at his head, his head is splitting OPEN-
"Whoa, whoa, Danny!" A voice exclaims, and he's not sure if it's Sam, Tucker, or his ghost friend.
LEAVELEAVELEAVELEAVE-
"SHUT UP!" Danny can't help but shout, glaring at the ghost with as much anger as he can manage through the haze of pain.
The friendly ghost launches forward at the angry one with a rattling hiss, fingers growing long and clawlike as his form distorts. For half a second, Danny sees his ghost's form flicker and change into something more like a dead body, but it passes quickly. An immense feeling of wrongness permeates the entire hall then, and the two ghosts crash into one another.
"Whoa, now that was weird," Tucker remarks, shaking his head and looking confused.
Through the pounding pain in his head, Danny replies, "Wait, what?"
"I don't know, I got a bit dizzy and cold for a second-" he explains as the ghosts smash into a wall and the hall lights flicker wildly, "-there it is again!"
"I feel it too. Danny-" Sam begins, but the angry ghost suddenly wrenches free of its assailant and rockets down the hallway towards Danny.
Before he can react, the ghost is slamming into him, sweeping him aside, pressing him hard enough against the wall to knock the air from his lungs. For a moment, he feels a wave of panic rise up in his throat- invisible creature, the lab, dead, dead, DEAD- but he roughly shoves it back into a manageable corner of his mind and coughs.
"HEY, WHAT THE HELL-"
"DANNY, WHAT-"
Tucker and Sam shout at him in unison, and Danny almost wants to laugh at the fact that it probably looks like he's levitating against the wall. Well, he'd laugh if he wasn't currently looking into the putrid, rotting face of some long-dead ghost. Right now, he's trying not to throw up at the stink of rot.
YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE.
"The Mansons think otherwise." Danny says in a snarky tone, then immediately bites his tongue in horror at his outburst.
THEY DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU ARE. GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUTLEAVELEAVE-
"Oh my God, you've been yelling that in my head for HOURS!" He shouts, and some urge he can't explain comes over him.
He brings up his hands to grab at the ghost's forearm, and an eerie greenish-white glow lights up the veins in them, like the roots of a plant. He stares at his hands in shock, and at the sight of the glow, the ghost lets out a hiss and lets go of him.
For a few moments, they merely watch each other with mutual distrust, not moving at all save for the ghost's dripping ichor and the heaving of Danny's chest. Then, the calm spell is broken and the ghost speaks to him again.
YOU ARE AN ABOMINATION.
Danny narrows his eyes and tries not to let the sting of the ghost's words show on his face. "Haven't you got any new insults? You've been throwing that one at me since I got here."
WATCH THE ATTITUDE, BRAT. I CAN STILL KILL YOU IN AN INSTANT.
"I'm not giving attitude," Danny says in a low, shuddering voice. "I'm being honest."
By now, the friendly ghost has recovered from his struggle and floats forward to place himself between the ghost and Danny. The malevolent ghost narrows its empty black eyes.
WHY ARE YOU DEFENDING HIM.
Two reasons. One, he's just a child. Two, I'm not an asshole.
A wave of pressure chills Danny to the bone moments before the angry ghost shimmers and vanishes from sight. After taking a few moments to make sure he can't feel the ghost nearby, Danny lets out a heavy sigh and slumps back against the wall. As soon as he slides down to sit on the floor, Sam and Tucker are there, fussing over him and checking him for injuries.
After a couple minutes where Danny merely absorbs the gentle contact, he tilts his head up to look at his friends and gives them a genuine smile. "I'm fine, guys. It just knocked the wind outta me. I'll live."
Sam and Tucker slump back on their knees at the same time, heaving sighs of relief.
"Why is it always you getting sucked into whatever mess shows up in Amity Park?" Sam sighs with a crooked smirk.
Danny blinks at her owlishly. "What do you mean, 'why is it always me'? I never get caught up in weird crap like this."
"The time Dash dared you to a stupid Halloween contest and you actually accepted and lost?" Tucker quips.
"How about when you actually listened to that fake love note and instead of seeing Paulina, you ended up having to climb the school roof to get away from the football team?" Sam adds, crossing her arms.
"And what about the day that-"
"Okay, I get it," Danny groans, rubbing at his tired eyes. "But back to the ghost. What the hell am I supposed to do?"
The three of them sit in pensive silence for a time, during which Danny shoots a few probing glances at his ghost friend, who shrugs and makes an 'I don't know' sound. At the gesture, Danny almost wants to shoot a sarcastic comment at the incredibly helpful spirit… but seeing as this is so far the only ghost that hasn't been awful to him, he decides not to. He'd rather not incur the wrath of the only nice dead person he's met.
Eventually, after an uncomfortable amount of time, Sam takes a breath and rises to her feet. She jabs a thumb over her shoulder. "Well, let's go back into the home theatre. We might as well be comfortable while we toss our one shared brain cell around."
Tucker and Danny don't object to her suggestion, standing back up and following her down the hall. Behind him, Danny feels the vague chill wafting off his ghost friend's form.
I'm sorry I'm not much help.
Not wanting to risk looking even more crazy in front of his friends, he just casts a glance back over his shoulder and gives the ghost a reassuring smile.
Well, as reassuring as one's smile can be after being attacked by a poltergeist.
When they re-enter the home theatre, the three of them wordlessly find a spot on the red couch in the centre of the room and take a moment to formulate their words.
"Uh, this is really not my thing, but if I know horror movie ghosts- and I do- ghosts are usually bound to earth because they have unfinished business here. Maybe we should try talking to it? Oh, and by 'we', I mean 'you', Danny-" Tucker explains, to which Danny rubs tiredly at his eyes.
"Yeah, I know," Danny says, "I mean, I'm the only one who can properly talk to the ghost anyways."
Sam pushes some stray hairs from her face. "Sounds like a good place to start. If the ghost doesn't talk, what should we do?"
"I don't know, call the Ghostbusters?" Tucker suggests, and Sam whips one of her bat-patterned slippers across the room at him.
I can try chasing him from the house. It's only a temporary fix, since he's so obsessed with this place, but it'll be enough to get you kids through the night.
Danny raises his head to glance between his friends, clearing his throat and saying, "The nice ghost that follows me around says that if all else fails, he can chase the poltergeist from the house for the night."
"I mean, that's great and all," Sam replies, "But now that I know there's a freaking ghost in my house, I'd be more comfortable if we could get rid of it for good. I like creepy stuff as much as the next guy, but I'd rather not have dead people staring at me while I sleep."
"That's understandable," Danny agrees with an awkward titter, running a hand through his hair.
YOU ARE A MENACE, the angry ghost's sneer resonates in Danny's head again. I DON'T CARE IF YOU HAVE THE SAME POWERS AS A SPIRIT, I'LL GUT YOU LIKE A TROUT.
Before he can mull that lovely picture over too much, Danny takes a deep breath and rises to his feet again. "Well, it's now or never, I guess."
"Guess so." Sam nods.
"If I pass out, don't take me to a hospital and don't revive me." Tucker groans.
If your friend dies, maybe I'll finally have more than one friend to talk to, the friendly ghost chuckles, bringing a small smile to Danny's face.
"Nobody's dying tonight, Tuck." He laughs, feeling lighter than he has over the past week despite the fact that they're about to march off and fight a ghost.
Thankfully, Tucker just returns the smile with one of his own. It's a lot more wobbly than Danny's, but seeing the smile is enough to loosen the knot in his chest.
When they finally gather up their collective courage and step back out the door, it's Danny who takes the lead. Seeing as he's the only one who can sense exactly where the ghost is, it makes perfect sense for him to lead the charge.
That doesn't mean he has to like it.
Frankly, he's not quite sure what to think of all this. He's trying to roll with the punches as best he can, but it's hard not to feel like he's having his privacy violated all the time, with ghosts and spirits able to bash loudly into his brain at any moment. Danny hopes there's some way he can close off his head to invaders and that he finds it soon.
Sam's phone flashlight paints the walls in harsh white light ahead of them and the AC kicks in, rumbling low and heavy through the walls. That, coupled with their tense silence, makes it feel kind of like they really are in a horror movie. All they're missing is the axe murderer.
The angry ghost's dark, swirling aura grows more tangible, creeping along Danny's skin like hundreds of spiders, hissing quietly in his ears, and pushing at his legs as though the ghost is actively trying to slow him down. It's uncomfortable in the way wet socks are annoying: relatively harmless, but preferably avoided, and Danny has to bite his lip and push past his comfort zone to keep slogging onward.
It doesn't take long to reach the main floor, but Danny's already exhausted. Well, it's not like he wasn't already exhausted, but he feels almost dead on his feet at this point. Even so, he rubs at his arms as the air conditioning gives him a chill, then continues tiptoeing in the direction of the ghost's aura.
They're just about to the living room when Danny turns around to give his friends a heads-up… and Tucker lets out half a shriek before catching himself and slapping a hand over his mouth. Danny cocks an eyebrow at the equally-surprised look Sam gives him. "What?"
Sam shifts her phone light experimentally from left to right for a few seconds, still trained on Danny's face, before whispering, "Don't freak out, but your eyes are lighting up."
"What?!" Danny hisses, instinctively reaching up towards his face.
"Yeah, it made me think of the time I took out the trash and there was a raccoon sitting in the alley eating garbage. You've got raccoon eyes, dude," Tucker explains with a vague gesture towards his eyes.
For the first time since the accident, Danny feels himself growing excited with his powers. "Whoa, really?" he feels a grin spread across his face, "Awesome!"
"Can we focus on one thing here, guys?" Sam grumbles, and Danny snaps out of his awe.
"Right, right. Uhh, the ghost is in the living room. So prepare for… I don't know, anything? Weird stuff is probably gonna happen," he explains haltingly, still unsure of what exactly he's going to say when he confronts the ghost.
His uncertainty must not show on his face, because Sam and Tucker merely nod with the same determined expressions. Then, Danny tries to calm his wildly thumping heart by taking a deep breath and wringing his fingers.
Okay, Fenton, one step at a time.
He pushes open the massive mahogany doors leading to the living room and is immediately assaulted by the rancid stench of rot. He gags, slaps a hand over his nose and mouth, and steps into the room.
The ghost is about twenty feet away, almost at the complete opposite end of the living room, and it's just as terrifying as it was half an hour ago. The air around it pulses with dark, flickering energy like ink in water, vanishing when the yellow lamplight filtering in through one window hits it. Toxic black ichor still oozes from empty eye sockets, a mouth with no lower jaw, and collapsed, rotting nasal cavities. A moth-eaten black suit and bedraggled red tie hang off its emaciated body, doing nothing to help the fact that this ghost looks like a corpse given life. At the sight of Danny, the ghost's aura flares and hits him like a freight train, pummelling him with rage fury sorrow anger protection hostility loneliness hate.
Wait.
Loneliness. Protection.
A spark of inspiration bounces to life in Danny's head, and he steps closer.
FILTHY RAT
Ignore it. It's just like Dash and the A-Listers.
I WILL TEAR YOU APART.
It can't touch me, the other ghost'll stop it if it attacks me.
He stops ten feet away from the ghost, trying to hold onto his consciousness as the ghost's energy continues to punch at him in waves.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot," he says calmly despite the way his legs tremble uncontrollably. "My name's Danny Fenton, and I just wanna talk."
I WILL NOT SPEAK TO A CREATURE LIKE YOURSELF. MONSTER MONGREL ANIMAL GET OUTGETOUT-
"You don't like me. I get that. I… I'm something you don't really understand, I guess. But I'm," he breathes through his mouth to keep the rotting-corpse smell out, "I'm new to this too. I don't know what I'm doing, but, um. Your… aura, I think? It… felt lonely."
This time, the ghost doesn't scream a reply. So Danny continues.
"I really don't know what to do to help, but ghosts are kept here because they have unfinished business or something, right?" the ghost doesn't reply. "Okay, well… I just wanna help. If-if I can."
YOU CANNOT HELP ME.
The voice, instead of being threatening and hostile, is harsh but laced with something like melancholy. The ghost's aura is tinged with solemn sadness, which Danny feels burning his chest and throat. He steels himself and continues, "Can I at least try?"
A pause.
Then, I suppose.
The tar-black energy swirling around the ghost dissipates until there's nothing but vaguely-shimmering air at the very edges of its form. The aura and overpowering stink becomes more muted, like an afterthought rather than an active effort to drive him away. Danny blinks in surprise as the ghost's form flickers and it momentarily appears human and whole once again.
It seems I forgot what kept me here, its form shimmers again, but now I remember.
"Is… is it something I can help you with…?" Danny stammers.
The ghost flickers a few more times, then manages to assume its stabilized form.
It's an old man, skin spotted with age, but holding himself in a way that screams 'high-class'. A pair of delicate glasses sit lightly on the bridge of his nose, and his clothes are spotless and whole once more. Danny can't help but think he looks like the sort of man who lives in some kind of palace or mansion.
I passed away before I had the chance to greet my only grandchild. I was driving to visit the family when I suffered a stroke and died at the wheel. In my last moments, I only felt despair that I couldn't see the child.
For a few seconds, Danny just mulls this over. But it doesn't take long for him to start connecting the dots, and his eyes grow wide. He turns to face Sam.
"Hey, Sam?"
"What's up?"
He takes a second to gather his words, then wrings his hands together and asks, "Uh, call me… crazy or whatever, but uh, have… have you ever met your grandfather?"
Sam blinks. "No. Grandma said he died when I was a baby."
"Did he die from, uh, a stroke, maybe?"
A moment passes where Sam's eyes swirl with a myriad of complicated emotions, Danny not once taking his attention off of her. Then, after an indeterminate amount of time, Sam's eyes grow wide and she stares at Danny in shock. "Is the ghost my granddad?"
Danny glances at the ghost for confirmation, and feels both shock and relief burn in his chest when he nods.
I am.
"Holy shit."
Holy shit.
Danny and the friendly ghost wheeze out the remark at the same time, which Danny would've probably laughed at had he not been trying to process the whole 'dead granddad' situation. Instead, he takes a moment to drag his hands through his sweaty hair and sucks in a breath through his teeth.
Granddad lets out a disdainful click. Are all this generation's young people so foul-mouthed?
"Holy hell," Sam breathes, taking a few steps forward to stand next to Danny. "My granddad is right here?"
"Y-yeah, he's here. And he doesn't look nearly as much like a horror-movie monster as he did five minutes ago," Danny says with a joking tone, which earns him a smack on the head from the ghost's gloved hands.
Rubbing at his head with an apologetic smile, Danny meets the ghost's ice-white eyes and asks, "So is there, like, something you need me to say for you or something? So you can pass on or whatever you need to do?"
I… the ghost pauses, ...please tell her I'm proud of her.
Danny relays the message, which makes Sam purse her lips despite the glimmer of happiness that glows in her eyes. In response, she looks at where she thinks the ghost is and laughs, "I never got to meet you, but thanks. I'm glad that the only people who hate what I'm doing are my parents."
The ghost's aura flares with something like contentment, strong enough that Danny feels it working its way into his own head. For a change, though, this doesn't feel invasive or probing at all.
After Danny feels himself grow almost sleepy from the ghost's contentment, it speaks softly. I misjudged you. Perhaps the fact that you belong to neither the living nor the dead is a good thing. It drifts forward and places an icy hand on his shoulder. Thank you, Danny Fenton.
For a minute, nothing happens. Then, like a reflection on disturbed water, the ghost flickers and breaks apart into countless shards of ethereal glass, each one momentarily glimmering with a memory from the ghost's life.
As he watches the last of the ghost fade into nothing, he almost wishes Sam and Tucker would've been able to see it pass on. Though that would mean they'd be stuck with the same burden he has to carry, and he wouldn't wish this on anyone.
Shaking himself, he feels the last dregs of hostility and rot fade, and turns to face Sam and Tucker. "That went way better than I thought it would," his vision wavers with exhaustion, "but if I don't get into a bed in the next five minutes, I'm actually going to pass out. Can we go to sleep now? Please?"
Sam and Tucker are still too baffled by the whole ordeal to say anything, but they do turn and lead the way back towards the basement where the theatre room is.
Danny doesn't remember crawling back into his sleeping bag, but before he completely sinks into slumber, he feels the friendly ghost squeeze his shoulder and hears its voice echo gently in his head.
You did amazing, kid.
"I can't believe we actually went full Buzzfeed Unsolved on a ghost last night," Tucker groans the following morning between bites of toast. "I'm still kinda convinced it was a weird dream."
Across the table from him, Sam and Danny exchange a glance.
"Well, I perfectly remember being thrown against the side of the hallway at 2 AM, so there's that," Danny replies with a shit-eating grin at his friend.
Beside him, Sam snorts and pulls out her phone. "And then there's also this," she flicks on her phone light and shines it at Danny's face, "if you're still not convinced."
Tucker stares at Danny for a solid few seconds before begrudgingly shoving another piece of toast in his mouth. "I mean, that's cool, but everything else? Terrifying."
"Tell me about it." Danny sighs as he scoops up some cereal. "I can't believe my parents were right about the paranormal actually being real. So much for the 'Fenton Crazy'."
"Oh, no, your parents are still ridiculously crazy. They just happened to be right about one thing." Sam replies.
For a time, they all sit in companionable silence and eat, mulling over the events of the previous night. Danny's just starting to realize that this is the first time he's felt rested since the accident, when Tucker pulls his phone out and sends the flashlight in Danny's direction. With an amazed hum, he moves the light around Danny's face.
After about a minute of this, Danny sighs and says, "You're not gonna stop doing that, are you?"
"Hey, it's frickin' awesome! How many people do you know that have light-up eyes?" Tucker protests as he passes the light around Danny's face again.
Sam places a hand on Danny's shoulder with a laugh as he lowers his head and groans. "Not to jump on the 'Danny's got cool eyes' bandwagon, but imagine the look on Dash's face when your eyes light up like you're about to vaporize him. Just let that sink in a little bit."
Danny does, and good lord that's a face he desperately wants to see. With a laugh, he replies, "Y'know, maybe you're right. This has awesome prank potential."
As they devolve into rapid chatter regarding a variety of pranks they think will have incredibly satisfying outcomes, Danny's friendly ghost drifts back into the room. He glances over his shoulder at the ghost. Then, a sudden realization hits him and he excuses himself from the table for a moment.
The ghost follows him into the living room, where Danny faces him with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "So, I know I was kind of a jerk to you when I first got my… powers, I guess? But, uh, I kinda wanna make up for that now. So," he extends a hand, "I'm Danny Fenton. Nice to meet you."
The ghost blinks at him in surprise before gingerly reaching out and taking his hand. After a few seconds of silence, the ghost smiles and replies, Nice to meet you, Danny. My name's Alvin.
"You okay with helping me stumble around this whole 'I have spirit powers' thing?" Danny asks with a smile.
Alvin's aura flares with the soothing warmth of happiness, blanketing Danny with comfort and safety.
We're friends, right? So long as I'm here, I'll always do my best to help you.