This accursed story kept me up all night. And I freely admit to not editing it at all before I put it up, so I apologize if I missed anything major.

I updated my profile, in case anyone wants to know useless things about me.

Shout-outs:

Thanks to starfruit-22, conan98002, L'ange-Sans-Ailes, Jimmy the Gothic Egg, A. Delashmit, starlight wishes, Galateagirl (more subplots for you here!), Kagome M.K, Epyon Zero (sorry I didn't get back to 'Sam beating the crap out of Danny' in this chapter), chocolatemercury, Hathors-Favorite, Ohka Breynekai, katiesparks, silvermoonphantom (my rear is almost NEVER not-writing XD), meeh, dArkliTe-sPirit, ShiroandFubuki, Zarz (I like your theory, but I can't tell you if you're right or not!), Flashx11 (sorry, that'll be one for the next chapter...), animeobsessed3191, Anomaly25 (Cute! Your almost-rhyme made me grin XD), and mrit (good god woman, you deserve a little credit, since I feel you helped, now take it I say...! also, gave much thought to Jazz's comical intro, still thinking.) for their comments, as usual, you guys keep me inspired! I hope I didn't miss anybody, I'm really sleepy.

This chapter was unplanned, but I sat up in bed at 8 this morning (after playing Animal Crossing until 7:30...) with the first lines in my head. And so I got up and wrote it. And so I'm so tired I think I'm going to die right here and now. Uh, happy Easter, also. o/ Enjoy.

Estrelas

Chapter 12

by Shimegami-chan

A/N: Yes, this is supposed to be in italics.

In case I confuse anyone; Spectra did not attack the school until about fifteen years previous to the events of Sam and Danny, therefore Jazz could not have found out about Danny in the same way she did in My Brother's Keeper. I chose to keep her in the dark about his powers.

Seventeen stout candles lit the shoreline, nestled snugly amidst gravel and grass, their flames flickering in the dark. The witching hour was approaching; the full moon throwing its reproachful glare on the water of Jejune Lake. Halloween, the night owned by uneasy spirits. The sky was starless, an inky black. Ten minutes to midnight.

Jazz Fenton didn't believe in witchcraft.

She didn't believe, but she'd tried it all before arriving at this stage, a hastily-scanned book of fiction and the old wives' tales of ghost hunting setting the admittedly creepy scene. The number of flames for her brother's age. The time when paranormal activity was at its highest. The night all the spirits were afoot, and she was alone at the lakeshore, heart in throat, hoping against hope. If those who praised her genius saw her now, they would surely laugh.

It seemed like an eternity ago. She'd gotten the call through the school, for she spent most of her days there, and even common technology like phones were nowhere to be found in the tiny archives building where she worked. The college had been constructed at the turn of the century, but this bothered Jazz less than her classmates, for at the sacrifice of technology she was granted her own personal case studies; wandering spirits of deceased students just begging to be analyzed. She'd never have admitted to practicing on her forefathers - no, Jazz's reputation was earned with her top marks in book studies, but that didn't mean that she couldn't help some of the resident ghosts work through their issues. It was they that had originally led her to believe that she could make a difference in someone's life, even if it was their afterlife.

Jazz was had just finished her freshman year, but her work ethic and quick thinking had gotten her a summer job on campus, a position with the department of psychology, assisting summer students and faculty with finding research material in the archives. The building was a squat, windowless, airless box - but she loved it, because between visitors, she had access to all the research she could have ever dreamed of; all the books she could ever need. Even in the hot days of August, she worked tirelessly, her only gate to the outside world the narrow wooden door, propped open with a rock to allow in enough to breathe.

The department head had been the one to appear in it that warm summer day, throwing his gargantuan shadow over Jazz's latest journal entry. "Miss Fenton, there's a phone call for you. In the main office."

Surprised, she had closed the book and tucked it under her arm, locking her other belongings in the archive behind the creaky door, and following the professor into the building that the psychology department called home. He led her into the spacious office on the second floor, where the receptionist stood nervously by the window, looking about for something to do. The gleaming black receiver was laid beside the cradle, waiting for Jazz to pick it up.

She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Hello?"

"Hello, is this Jasmine Fenton?"

"This is she."

"My name is Gladys, dear, I'm calling from the hospital. We had some trouble finding you. You may want to come down here as soon as possible - there's been an accident."

Jazz held back a gasp. "My mom? Or Dad?"

"Both your parents are here, honey, but they're going to be fine. We just wanted you to--"

"What about Danny?" Jazz cut her off. "Did you call my little brother and let him know too? Daniel?"

The pause on the other end gave Jazz the chance to hear her heart beat three times. "It's really best if you come down in person and talk to the doctors."

She dropped the phone...

That had been almost three months ago, thought the Jazz who now stood at the lakefront, her hair highlighted by burning candles. Her parents had been okay; shaken up but awake when she'd arrived, after their sub had been destroyed by something terrible dozens of feet under the water's surface. They didn't remember a thing after the explosion. They didn't remember swimming to safety or crawling onto the gravel shore, as they'd been found, hand in hand. They only remembered explosion, panic, and then unconsciousness.

They had lived and Danny had died, ripped apart by the force of the blast or drowned trying to escape from the sub, the wreckage of which was so deep that it couldn't even be recovered. Jazz shivered at the thought of her little brother's body trapped in the wreckage below. It was probably why he had become a ghost, she thought, and it was her duty to find him set his soul free.

But nothing so far had worked. He'd only been sighted at night, at even then at completely random places in town, never at the place of his death. Jazz had spent uncountable nights wandering the streets of Amity Park, looking for a glimpse of him or even a rumour that he'd been spotted, but there was no pattern to his appearances, and never any attacks or other mischief that required intervention by ghost hunters. He didn't even look like a ghost, many witnesses had told her, and very few recognized him as the drowned Fenton boy until they saw his picture in the paper or a magazine. Jazz had made sure, since she began her campaign, that every citizen of Amity Park would recognize Danny Fenton on sight.

She didn't believe in witchcraft or voodoo, but she did believe that if Danny's spirit truly did haunt the lake, Halloween was the night it was sure to show itself, and she wasn't going to miss this chance.

The clock struck midnight.

Jazz's heart pounded. She'd read various incantations and charms to call forth spirits, but they were long forgotten, washed away by the moonlit lake. The gentle ripples on the surface seemed like perfectly normal activity; movement caused by wind, not by ghosts. She wasn't sure if it was time to be disappointed yet. She hadn't even called him.

Forcing back tremors in her voice, Jazz lifted her chin and asked for him by name. "Danny, if you're here, show yourself. It's Jazz."

No answer, no movement. She swallowed. "Can anyone hear me? Please?"

"Hello there, Missy." Something with a gravely voice spoke very near her ear. "Are you holding a séance? Do you mind company?"

"I'm looking for a ghost," the girl replied bravely, her fists clenched at her sides. The voice had an echoing quality, but it was rough and leery. She was beginning to admit to herself that she wasn't very good at this.

"You found one," the voice purred.

Jazz forced herself to turn around and face the apparition, which was humanoid, but grotesque in appearance. It had green skin and straggly, long black hair, and wore a malicious smile. "No, you're not who I'm looking for, so please just move along and I'll get back to what I was doing."

The ghost cackled. "You're funny! I like that." He drifted slightly closer and Jazz stepped back, soaking one foot in the shallow water. It raised an eyebrow and reached out a hand, offering assistance to the frightened girl.

Another voice, its source invisible, cut in. "You heard the lady. Leave her alone."

Her attacker groaned, looking about for the newcomer. "Buzz off, I saw her first."

A much smaller ghost materialized behind the green-skinned spook's right shoulder, wearing a white-and-black hazmat suit and a scowl. "She's not up for grabs."

Jazz gasped in recognition. "Inviso-Bill."

"Jeez, what's your problem?" the first spirit demanded, backing away quickly. "Fine, I'll find someone else, then."

"You'd better not!" the smaller one cried, but not before the other apparition had disappeared back into the gloom. Jazz was wishing she'd thought to get the weapons out of her bag before inviting every ghost in town over, but now the white-haired spook stood between her and the supplies, with lit candles forming a neat prison on either side. She bit her lip as the ghost's frown vanished and was replaced with a concerned look. "Are you all right? It's dangerous to be out tonight, you know."

"Uh...I know." She was more than a little taken aback that the spook hadn't attacked her, considering its reputation as the most dangerous ghost in town. Then again, maybe it didn't know she was the daughter of Jack and Maddie Fenton.

It kept staring at her, and the feeling of having holes bored through her by a ghost was really creeping Jazz out. The fact that Inviso-Bill's eyes glowed frighteningly really wasn't much help. "What's all this?"

She was so flustered that when he spoke it took a moment to parse the sentence. "Oh...I just thought it'd be a nice evening to come down to the lake and light some candles."

The ghost raised one black eyebrow.

"What? It's not your business!" she sputtered indignantly. What did he want from her, anyway? If he wasn't blocking her escape route she'd be halfway home by now!

"Come on now, I thought you were supposed to be smart," it said dryly. "Top of the class or something."

"How do you know that?"

"How would I not? Don't you think I do research on the people who try to kill me all the time?"

So it knew who she was. That was fine, Jazz decided, as long as it didn't perceive her as a threat. That wasn't really much comfort, though, given the situation. "I guess so..."

Inviso-Bill frowned, and Jazz noticed its horrible glowing eyes were on her wet feet. "Are you going swimming or something?"

"No, idiot, I was trying to get away from the ghost." She rolled her eyes and looked pointedly at it. Maybe it could be shamed into letting her go without incident, Jazz hoped.

But the reaction she got was not what she expected. Instead the spook blushed visibly and scooted back, allowing her room to step forward. "Sorry."

"It's...okay?"

"Listen, I know you probably think I'm here to hurt you, but I'm not," it said hurriedly. "It was only chance that I was walking by when that ghost attacked you. What were you going to do about him? Didn't you bring any weapons

"Of course I did, but I can't..." She trailed off, unwilling to admit the location of the ecto-guns she'd 'borrowed' from her parents. Maybe he'd want to steal them and reverse-engineer them or something.

It sighed, exasperated, one step ahead of her somehow. "I don't care where they are; I don't want them. All I want to know is why you're out here in the dead of night, leaving yourself completely open to be attacked!"

"What do you care?" she shot back, at first on the defensive, but then suddenly recalling her newly-minted aim to work through ghosts' problems with them, instead of against them. "I mean...sorry. I guess I'm overreacting a bit, I'm not used to talking to ghosts."

Inviso-Bill looked surprised.

"I'm trying to contact someone," Jazz rushed on, trying to arrange her posture to look as non-threatening as possible. "Someone who drowned in this lake. I think he's become a ghost."

"That guy?" the ghost pointed at the newly-crafted marble memorial that stood five metres to her left. Jazz realized that she probably ought to get into the habit of thinking of Inviso-Bill as a 'he' instead of an 'it'; as a former person who was probably still part human deep down inside. Even if he was a troublemaker. Maybe if she succeeded with helping Danny pass on, she could turn her psychological prowess to other ghosts.

"Yeah." Jazz didn't look at the pillar. "Do you know where I can find him? His name is Danny, Danny Fenton."

"I know him," Inviso-Bill said, fidgeting a bit. "But we ghosts don't really, uh, collaborate with humans so well. I don't know if he'd want to talk to one of you."

"You have to," Jazz said desperately, her hopes buoyed by the lead. "I'm his sister, and it's really important that I see him. Please?"

The ghost frowned. "I don't know. Danny is pretty secretive, he just wants to be left alone."

"I can't!" Jazz cried. "I've been looking for him for so long! I can't, I won't give up now!"

Inviso-Bill looked extremely uncomfortable. "Why?"

"You probably wouldn't understand," she replied with a scowl. "Do you remember what it was like to be human? Didn't you have family and friends who cared about you?"

"Yes..."

"Then how can you just leave that all behind? I don't understand how a ghost's mind works," she whispered, trying to calm down, but unable to compose herself completely. She was in over her head.

"When you die," the ghost said slowly, "you have to put that life behind you. Your family doesn't want to be reminded of what they've lost. They don't want to see you roaming the earth, mindless with anguish, because they're trying to remember you fondly."

"Then why do you do it?"

"Why do I personally do it? Because I have to," he said with determination. "My job is to stop all the ghosts that have forgotten what they're here for, and make sure they don't interfere with the humans."

"But you're a ghost too," Jazz said softly.

He shook his head. "I'm different...I'm the hero. Even if you won't believe that, I'm only here because I want to protect this town."

"You did save me" she admitted begrudgingly.

He smiled.

But she didn't want to believe that he was as benevolent as he sounded just yet. "So you really were human once?"

"Of course!" He looked almost offended. "All ghosts were, except for the occasional animal."

"Can I ask...how you died?" Jazz was almost daring to hope that even Inviso-Bill could be understood if you asked the right questions.

But that question hadn't been the correct one. "I'd rather not say," he admitted with a slight frown.

"Okay, if you say you're the hero, then why are you always causing trouble for my parents?"

His expression soured slightly. "Because people tend to only take notice of me when I'm the last one standing. I capture the ghost who's causing trouble, and then they walk right in, see the carnage, and blame me...I expect it, of course, but that doesn't help me get away any faster."

"You capture them?" she asked with interest. "With what? What do you do with them?"

"I put them back in the Ghost Zone," he replied, and both were conscious of the avoided question. "They get right back out usually, though, through your parents' Ghost Portal. It's kind of broken."

Jazz nodded slowly. She didn't really know enough about this particular ghost to argue his story, so she again changed tactics. "Could...Danny be in the Ghost Zone too?"

"No," Inviso-Bill replied firmly. "It's an awful place."

"Then where is he?"

"He doesn't want to show himself," the ghost told her, point blank. "He knows you've been down here all the time, calling for him. He's hoping you'll just forget about trying to make contact, and just move on with your life."

"I can't do that!" she retorted. "And Danny wouldn't do such a thing to me. You're lying."

"Oh, yes he would," the ghost said tiredly. "And you're not helping the situation by getting worked up about it. You're a bright girl, Jasmine, and you've got a long life ahead of you. I'm sure Danny would rather see you enjoying it than moping about him."

"You're heartless!" she shrieked, losing all semblance of control. "How can you tell me to just get over it? He's my little brother!"

"What, you think this is easy on me?" he shot back. "If you knew anything about the way I live you wouldn't be harping on me like this! I'm trying to help you here!"

"Well I can't know anything about the way you live, because you're dead," she said heatedly.

The ghost fell silent.

"Yeah," he finally said, voice bitter. Something about it suddenly sounded very familiar to her, and Jazz's limbs seemed to turn as icy as the ghost. "Yeah, I guess I am, so I'll leave you alone now, then." He stood and turned his back on her before starting to walk away, back towards the road. Before she could speak he had turned invisible, leaving her alone in the darkness.

Jazz leapt to her feet. "Wait! Please, come back."

He didn't respond for a moment, but Jazz could still feel a sharp chill in the air, diluted by the October breeze. He had to be nearby. "I'm sorry I said that. I'd like to keep talking, so please..."

She waited, heart pounding, staring at the spot where he'd disappeared. Suddenly Jazz felt very alone and vulnerable, a sensation that hadn't been present at all when she was in the company of the ghost boy. She clasped her hands to her chest. "Please come back."

He reappeared, slowly, as though fighting a mental battle over whether to show himself to her again. "If you're going to insult me..."

"I won't," she promised. "I just want to know more...like, what you meant when you said ghosts 'forget what they're here for'."

"It's just a theory," Inviso-Bill replied, his face suddenly serious. "It seems like the older a ghost becomes, the more likely they are to go evil. As the world changes, a ghost almost never does; staying the same and thinking the same way. When the world has transformed so much that a ghost doesn't even recognize it anymore--" he spread his hands "--they tend to forget to think altogether, and start lashing out at humans. I don't think they even realize why."

"That's terrible," Jazz whispered, her thoughts going back to her little brother. Would Danny become like that too? Would she someday see her parents shoot him down and throw him through the Portal? Already they were talking about giving up ghost hunting just to avoid such a scenario, but Jazz had never dreamed it'd really happen...

"Are you okay?" The spook leaned forward, looking concerned.

"Have you been a ghost for very long?" she asked instead, avoiding his query.

He didn't take his gaze off her, instead leaning back only slightly, and his expression was troubled. "A bit more than three years."

That was common knowledge, Jazz supposed, but she didn't have the resources on hand. "How long does it take for a ghost to become...evil?"

"Oh," he replied, looking thoughtful. "That's a good question. I haven't been around long enough to see it happen to anyone in particular, but I get the impression that as soon as their former environment starts changing, the spirit it haunts starts to lose it. It really depends on the person and what they're haunting."

Jazz's stomach felt as though it had been poured full of lead. If her parents really did swear off ghost hunting and move to another state, what would that do to the ghost-Danny? Would he degenerate as quickly as Inviso-Bill seemed to think? She bit her lip, trying to stay calm. She was a rational adult. There was no need to be upset...she was a logical thinker who would find a solution.

But Jazz didn't see a solution, and the frightening concept was starting to make her panic.

"Hey, what's wrong?" The ghost again; this time having moved forward and grasped her by the shoulders. The chill in his touch shocked her out of her reverie right through her autumn coat, causing her to look up quickly, and find a worried look on his face. "Are you all right?"

"No," she stuttered, and he withdrew, looking at his ethereal hands before returning attention to her. "I need to contact my brother as soon as possible, and I need your help."

"Why?" he asked warily. "I told you, he wants his family to remember him in life, not death."

"But I have to stop that from happening to him!" she cried, forcing back panicked tears. "I want to help him cross over before he forgets everything and goes crazy like all the other ghosts!"

At this, Inviso-Bill let out an airless breath and looked away from her, to Jazz's great relief. "I understand that you're worried, but you don't have to be. Danny isn't in any danger of becoming like them. He'll cross over when he's ready."

"You don't understand," she protested, glaring even though he was no longer focusing his luminous eyes on her. "My parents are thinking about selling the house and moving away. Danny's environment will change just like you said."

She had caught his attention. "Moving? What? Why?"

"We heard he'd become a ghost," she told him sadly. "My parents feel responsible for his death already, and want no part in hunting him. They don't want to see it, if he's caught."

Responsible?" Inviso-Bill repeated with shock. "You must be kidding me! Why do they feel responsible for his death?"

"Because they couldn't save him. I guess you don't remember much about your family, because you certainly wouldn't belittle mine if you did!"

"I remember my family very well, thanks," he said quietly, but she could hear anger in his voice. She'd hit a nerve.

Jazz composed herself, curling a fist around the dried grass. "So now you understand why I have to find my brother."

"And if I say I can't help you?"

"Then I won't stop searching until I find him. I'll ask other ghosts; I know someone will help me."

"They won't," he said tiredly. "Not unless they think they can get something from you. Give it up, Jazz, and just move on. Danny will be fine, I promise."

"I don't believe you."

"God!" He ran a gloved hand down his face. "What's it going to take, then? This is everything I wanted to avoid!"

"I want to see Danny. That's what it's going to take to get me to leave you alone."

Inviso-Bill looked as though he wanted to make a break for it, but knew he had to placate her somehow. "You can't."

"Why?" Jazz demanded.

"Because he's hiding, like I already said!"

"From who?"

"From you! From everyone!" The ghost threw his hands up into the air. "He's hiding because a ghost! He wants to be remembered not as a ghost! Why is that so unbelievable? Jazz, seeing him is not going to make you happy; it's only going to make it worse. I can't do this, I can't, I can't!"

"I don't care what he looks like." Her imagination ran wild, conjuring a picture of a ghostly Danny that was as grotesque as the spirit that had attacked her earlier, with green skin and protruding eyeballs, hair wavering as though still submerged in lake water.

Inviso-Bill stared sadly at her, his terrible green eyes seeming to look right through her soul. "I should have known you weren't going to take 'no' for an answer."

"I don't care what he looks like," she repeated in a whisper, stepping closer to the spook.

"He looks like this," the ghost said finally, gesturing with one hand at his body. "But this a disguise, because he doesn't want people to recognize him."

As Jazz watched in horrified fascination, two rings of light appeared at Inviso-Bill's waist and traveled up and down the length of his slight frame, transforming him as they went. When they crackled out of existence, there was Danny, just as he'd looked when she last saw him alive, except for the tired posture, the anguished expression. She hoped briefly that this Danny was merely an illusion produced by the ghost, but before he ever opened his mouth she knew; could finally place what was so familiar about Inviso-Bill's appearance and voice. She couldn't believe it, and yet she had to, because there he was.

She opened her mouth to greet him, or scream, one of the two, but all that came out was the breathless question, "Why?"

-to be continued...

A/N: And now, I am shot for not putting Sam in this chapter at all. And for making it all italicized. -proceeds to be shot.-