Welcome to the next installment! This one sort of took a while for a number of reasons, but mostly it just didn't want to be written lol. But it needed to be done eventually, so here you go!
It was four in the afternoon when Wes touched down at the clearing that had been dubbed "the training grounds." He skidded to a stop as he landed, manifesting legs just in time to slow down before coming into contact with the ground. Once assured of his footing, he changed back and looked around, wondering if Danny was already waiting for him. He had pulled Wes aside after school the day before, asking him to meet in the woods the following day.
"I want you to show up charged," Danny had said, "but not fully charged, okay? Because you're probably gonna build up more while we're there, and I don't want you overloading in a place where it's gonna be harder to let it out."
Wes wondered what, exactly, Danny had planned. They hadn't had a proper training session in quite a while, and the last one they'd had had been down at the lab. Wes couldn't fathom what he intended to do here that couldn't be done there. Evidently it would have to do with his core powers, if the suggestion to come loaded up was any indication. But that just made it even more confusing; those powers were better practiced where they could be properly measured and managed, not out in the wilderness.
Just what was Danny thinking?
Wes didn't have to wait long. He'd only been standing there for a couple minutes when Danny arrived, landing much more smoothly than Wes had just prior. "Sorry I'm late, the Box Ghost was causing trouble again," he explained.
Wes waved a hand, dismissing the apology. "Doesn't he always? Now what were you thinking today? We gonna work on my core powers again?"
"I'll do you one better," Danny replied. "I was thinking more like a spar."
"...A spar?" Wes parroted. "You mean like, you know, beating the snot out of each other?"
"No, we're not gonna beat the snot out of each other," Danny chuckled, easily picking up on Wes's uncertainty. "There's more to sparring than that. We're gonna set some rules, obviously, and I figured, if you're gonna keep jumping into fights even when I tell you not to-"
"Oh come on, you already said I could fight Skulker!" Wes cut in.
"Not after Technus souped up his suit!" Danny countered. "It's like I said. I don't think you're ready for ghost fighting, you clearly think you are. Which is why I wanted to see how you do against me. If you can hold your own, then we'll know you can handle yourself."
Wes worried his lip, still not entirely sure about the idea. "...But I mean, we would still be hurting each other, wouldn't we?"
"Are you really that hung up on it?" Danny inquired, quirking a brow. "Okay, yeah, sparring means getting a little roughed up, but it isn't like we're out to actually hurt each other. Think of it more like... roughhousing. And roughhousing is a fine, perfectly acceptable thing to do, right? Sparring is just more... controlled."
Still not totally convinced, Wes pursed his lips. Admittedly, the idea of duking it out with Danny wasn't a very appealing one. Even so, his friend had made some valid points, and Wes was certain that they would be able to stop the moment something went wrong or things went too far. "I guess so... What kind of rules, exactly?"
"You know, just the basic stuff," Danny replied. "No cheap shots, no big destructive attacks, that kind of thing. And since you have your... Sap N' Zap, and I have my Wail, whoever can pin the other for three seconds, definitely long enough to use our big attacks, is the winner. Sound good?"
Wes nodded, even though he was still a bit anxious at the idea. He now understood why Danny wanted him to come with a partial charge, at least. "Yeah, sounds good," he squeaked.
Danny grinned. "Awesome." Without warning, he dove down, sweeping Wes off of his feet and straight onto his butt.
"Hey, you said no cheap shots!" Wes cried, already scuttling backwards to find his footing as he transformed.
"I didn't say no surprise attacks!" Danny lunged, not wanting to give Wes time to recuperate, but the less experienced Halfa was able to get up just in time to dodge an early pin. He took to the air, legs forming his spectral tail in the process. Danny was quick to follow him, making a grab for the fresh appendage. "You leave your tail open too much!"
"Like I haven't noticed literally every ghost I've tried to fight grabbing it," Wes replied, flicking the tip out of Danny's reach to instead slap his chin. It was hardly painful, but it was enough to ensure Wes had enough of a reprieve to fully break away. Still, Danny was quick to follow suit, his own tail making an appearance as he chased down his opponent. Though Wes was definitely faster than when he had first learned to fly, it still took no time at all for Danny to catch up, firing a mild ectoblast at Wes's back.
Wes yelped as he was struck, the blast only burning for a moment, but it was enough to throw off his momentum, sending him veering off-course. Danny fired another blast after him, but Wes was able to right himself just in time to avoid it. Arms crackling with unreleased energy, Wes turned on a dime, charging at Danny with a fist drawn back. The more experienced Halfa was surprised enough by the sudden approach that he didn't even try to avoid the blow, head snapping sideways as Wes struck him with a sharp right hook. "Ha!"
"You call that a punch?" Danny challenged, allowing the force behind the attack to turn him around, balling up a fist of his own. "Now this is a real punch!" Having built up more than enough momentum, Danny completed his circle and struck, hitting Wes so hard that he was left spinning, falling the short thirty feet back to the ground, where he continued to tumble before rolling to a painful stop. "...Yikes, maybe too real. You okay Wes?"
Wes moaned, slowly picking himself up and cradling his jaw. Danny landed in front of him, concerned that he hadn't bounced right back. His worries weren't alleviated in the slightest when he was close enough to see Wes's face clearly. His mouth was ajar, ectoplasm sluggishly dribbling— almost pouring— from it. Danny hissed through his teeth, guilt curling in his gut. "Oh, wow, that looks bad." Had he broken his jaw? Dislodged a tooth? Several teeth?
"I'm ohgay," Wes reassured him, finally sitting up fully. He spat out the thick green fluid that had pooled in his mouth. Danny was somewhat settled to see that that was all that he spat out. "I jus' bib my dung."
"It looks like you did more than bite your tongue," said Danny, brows furrowing. "Let me take a look at it."
Wes nodded and spat again, the green glob that fell to the ground not nearly as large as the first had been. It was a good sign that whatever Danny had done to him was healing, but he wanted to make sure it wasn't something serious. He stepped closer and knelt down, Wes reforming legs so that he could sit more comfortably. He opened his mouth as wide as he could, tongue slightly elevated, and stared at a point somewhere past Danny's shoulder.
The wound was no longer bleeding, which gave Danny a pretty good view of what looked to be a fairly minor injury. Wes really had just bitten his tongue. Embedded in the purplish flesh was a crescent of puncture marks, through which Danny could see the green-tinted muscle inside. However, the remaining ectoplasm around it was already congealing as he watched, forming the beginnings of a thin scab. The wound would seal over completely in minutes. But the prior severity of the bite wasn't the strangest part. Not after what Danny discovered.
Wes had fangs.
Danny nearly missed them with how small they were, no longer than a regular set of canines. But they were wickedly sharp, looking as if they could pierce his thumb like a tack if he were to push on one. The bicuspids directly behind each pointed canine had also evidently sharpened, though not to nearly the same extent as the teeth before them. The rest of Wes's mouth appeared virtually unchanged, but it was clear now how Wes could have bitten his tongue so hard. "...Oh no..."
"What is it, what's wrong?" Wes asked, leaning back. He didn't like Danny's tone.
"...You're growing in fangs," Danny replied, aghast.
"I'm growing fangs?!" Wes exclaimed loudly, immediately jumping to his feet. He stuck a thumb in his mouth, quickly drawing it away with a hiss when he inevitably poked himself. "...Oh my god I have fangs! Quick! Gimme a mirror, I can't see them!"
"Wes, this is serious!" Danny cried. "Do you have any idea what this could mean?! You never had fangs before. Your ghost form is changing!"
Wes paused. "...Changing? You don't mean like...?" Could Danny mean like whatever had happened in that alternate future? Wes knew that Danny feared the change. Was it a simple phobia? Or was there an actual reason for it? Wes knew he would never willingly turn evil. But was this something that just happened to ghosts sometimes? "...I'm not gonna go bad, am I?"
"No, you aren't going bad," Danny was quick to assure him. "...Maybe. Possibly. I don't know! But I do know who would know... Come on, we're going home."
"...Home? Mine or yours?"
"Mine," Danny clarified, rolling his eyes. "I know somebody in the Ghost Zone that can help us figure this out before it turns into something kinda sorta maybe bad."
"Wait, we're going to the Ghost Zone?!" whined Wes. While it was true that he had always wondered what wonders could be found on the other side of the Fenton portal, the idea of going into the source of all the town's problems made him more than a little wary. "I dunno, is that... safe? And wasn't the portal kinda busted?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure," Danny said quickly. Wes wasn't even sure he had paid attention to the question. "My parents fixed it a few days ago. Come on, the sooner we figure this out, the better." Wes gulped, but, seeing that Danny wouldn't change his mind, and also not wanting to take the chance that he might be right, he readily followed right behind.
Luckily, the lab was unoccupied when they arrived; a quick invisible check from Danny confirmed that his parents were working on an invention in the kitchen, allowing them to approach the swirling vortex unseen.
Wes hesitated at the entrance, frowning at the swathes of green and chartreuse within. Though the memory itself was distant, he found himself brutally reminded of the excruciating agony that came with being inside. He itched at his chest, cringing at the phantom pains. He was not keen to return to the source of that pain.
Danny was not clueless to Wes's plight. He grimaced sympathetically, knowing firsthand just how terrified he must be. "...It's gonna be okay," he swore. "It kinda feels like walking through wet Jello. It won't hurt, I promise." He smiled encouragingly, offering a gloved hand.
Wes looked away from the portal, glancing Danny up and down with uncertain orange eyes. He trusted Danny, without a doubt in his mind. He must have gone through this portal several times, and turned out fine each time. If he said it would be okay, then Wes wholeheartedly believed him. Without another thought, he firmly grasped Danny's hand, letting out one last shaky breath.
Danny breached first, dragging Wes along behind him. And he was right; the sensation— taut like trying to poke a hole in plastic wrap, but smooth and malleable like gelatin when pushed— was entirely painless. Wes screwed his eyes shut to force out the blinding green light, but once his eyelids found darkness once again, he blinked them open.
The Ghost Zone was gorgeous. The dark, swirling green smog was a stark contrast to the eyestrain neons Wes had expected, blending nicely into the black and jade backdrop. As far as the eye could see, bright purple islands dotted the atmosphere, never staying in one place. Random objects and chunks of earth floated by, all from varying eras, many of which Wes couldn't even discern as human in origin. The entire area swirled and swam, giving the impression that the Zone was underwater. A stray ghost could be seen here and there, some as small as a human thumb, others large enough to be islands in their own right. It was all absolutely breathtaking. "...Woah..."
Danny smiled, also appreciating the surreal beauty of their surroundings. He surveyed the landscapes around them, nodding when he evidently found the path he was looking for, flying slowly enough for Wes to keep up. "It's pretty, but it's also dangerous. Stick close to me and nobody should mess with us, but whatever you do, don't touch anything."
"...Not even just the rocks?" Wes clarified.
"The more unassuming something looks, the more likely it is that's it's something you really, really don't want to touch. Unless you're willing to take the chance that it can turn your insides into outsides or something." A small ghost happened to be passing by right then, no bigger than a fist and resembling a kitten, if a bit more formless. Wes shied away like he thought it would sting him, following Danny much more closely than before.
It was almost impossible to say how long they flew. It could have been a couple minutes, or it could have been several days. Wes just couldn't keep track. But after an indeterminate amount of time, the pair came across a building both familiar and bizarre, one which Wes assumed was their destination.
Before them was a menacingly tall tower, or what could at least be inferred as a tower. It more closely resembled a grandfather clock, with its slanted roof, enormous clock face, and even more massive pendulum. All around it was a series of cogs and gears, some solitary and some intertwined, all in various states of completion and disrepair. The platform where one might expect little animatronic people to roam on the hour was decorated with what could have been weathervanes, each one topped with a wickedly sharp scythe that invoked the image of death. Intimidating, and yet oddly fitting.
"...What is this place?" Wes eventually mustered the nerve to ask.
Danny smiled up at the foreboding tower. How he could look upon such a place and feel joy instead of dread, Wes didn't know. "...This is Long Now," Danny said, floating closer. "And this is the lair of an ally of mine, someone who should be able to tell us what's happening to you."
Well. At least whatever ghost this place belonged to seemed to be a friend of Danny's.
The pair drifted towards the tower, approaching a massive set of wooden doors akin to those of a castle. Danny raised a fist to knock, but he'd barely made the motion before the doors were swinging inwards of their own accord, emitting a grating, rusty squeal. Wes hunched his shoulders at the harsh sound, and kept them that way when he was bombarded with a constant, echoing, almost deafeningly loud ticking. Clocks were already almost too noisy on their own. Being inside a giant one was monumentally worse.
Unaware of Wes's discomfort, Danny tugged him along, drifting past a swinging pendulum that apparently wasn't attached to anything to float up a spiraling set of stairs. All around were various mechanical parts, each grinding, ticking, and gonging in a methodical cacophony. Wes covered his ears as they passed a particularly noisy pair of chugging cogs, but luckily it wasn't long before the pair found themselves in a larger, somewhat quieter room, massive mirrors littering the place. Some reached from floor to ceiling, and others were only a few feet tall. Each had its own scenes playing across them; some appeared to be places, some were events, and others seemed to be true mirrors.
Refusing to lower his hands lest the noise become too much, Wes wandered around the room, taking in all the bizarre instruments and machinery. Tilting his head curiously, he approached one display, depicting him and Danny in the strange room from behind. Only, this mirror showed them moving half a second before they truly did, this backwards reflection of Wes landing and taking a step moments before the real thing did the same. It was like he was glimpsing his own future, from the perspective of another. "...So, what, is this friend of yours a time wizard or something?"
"I suppose you could say that," said a strange voice beside him.
Wes yelped, whirling around to face the newcomer. The man— no, boy... wait, man again— looked about how Wes would expect a time wizard to look. Cloaked in a clock-themed robe with a scepter to match, and with an ever-changing face and physique that shifted between infant and elder seemingly at random, there wasn't a single static aspect of this being, save for his complexion and attire.
Danny turned around, having been inspecting a display of what looked to be some ancient civilization, and drifted towards the pair. "Looks like you've met Clockwork," he chortled. "Watt, this is Clockwork, Master of Time. Clockwork, meet-"
"Wattson Wraith," Clockwork cut him off, his tone not unfriendly. "Or would Wesley Weston be your preferred name?"
Wes frowned. Maybe Danny trusted this strange ghost well enough, but Wes found himself perturbed, not used to this ghost's quirks. "...How do you know my name?"
"I am the Master of Time," Clockwork replied. "I know all things that are, were, and could or could not be." His form fluidly shifted between man, child, and ancient, respectively. "In one of those could-be's, we have already met. Time Out." Without preamble, the entire tower stilled, and the deafening noise with it. Frowning dubiously at the display of power, Wes slowly lowered his hands.
"If you know who he is, then I'm guessing you know why we're here?" Danny asked.
Clockwork nodded sagely. "I do. You worry that your friend may tread a path similar to that of your old future, and you wish for me to alleviate that fear. But you do understand that these circumstances aren't even remotely similar to your own, don't you?"
Danny blushed. "...I-I know that. But please. Ghosts don't just grow fangs for no reason, right? I just need to make sure that he isn't... I dunno. Corrupting or something."
Clockwork sighed. "...Danny. I know you are aware that I cannot give you a direct answer. Doing so could cause both you and Wesley to deviate from your paths. To know one's future is to possibly doom it."
"That didn't stop you from interfering with my timeline just to teach me a lesson," Danny pointed out.
This gave Clockwork pause. He chuckled. "...Very well. I cannot give you a perfect answer, but there is no rule saying I can't lay out the possible outcomes."
Clockwork floated towards one massive display, gesturing for Danny and Wes to follow. Once sure they were close enough to pay proper attention, he waved a hand, the image of some part of the Ghost Zone billowing like smoke before clearing completely, the dregs of color left behind swirling listlessly. "To address your concerns," Clockwork said, "there are, indeed, futures where Wesley may turn out to be the monster you worry he's becoming." The image morphed into an indistinct silhouette that couldn't quite be made out, but radiated beastly malice all the same. Wes paled. "However, I can assure you that this is a highly unlikely future, so much so that the Observants have felt no need to address it." Danny sighed with relief.
"Who are the Observants?" Wes asked, not familiar with the term.
"Basically a court full of self-absorbed creeps with future vision," Danny summarized with a disgruntled frown. Clockwork snorted, apparently in agreement. The answer told Wes little, but he supposed that was all he needed to know.
"...Okay. So if you and some seer court don't think I'm gonna turn into the ender of worlds, then why am I growing these?" He bared his teeth, gesturing at one of his pointed canines.
"Hmm," Clockwork hummed, more of a passive note than an inquisitive one. "As I've said, there are multiple possibilities within your future, and many reasons that a ghost such as yourself would develop a distinct change to their form. Every possibility is completely natural, and nothing you need to worry yourself over. In fact, Danny himself has gone through such changes himself, isn't that right?"
Danny flushed, having not expected Clockwork to draw attention towards him. He crossed his arms, hands tucked under his pits. "...I... Maybe...!"
Wes scrutinized him, not noticing anything at first that differed from Phantom's first appearance. But he supposed that Danny had muscles that were more defined than they used to be. Wes would ordinarily chalk that up to the natural muscle gain that would occur from fighting ghosts day in and day out. But Fenton didn't have that kind of definition. He was much slighter than Phantom was, with poorer posture and narrower shoulders. Could that be what Clockwork was referring to? "...So why does it happen, exactly?"
"As I've said, there are many reasons a ghost's base form might change," Clockwork replied. "The most common cause is that it relates to the ghost's obsession. It's hardly out of the ordinary to see one's appearance change over time as they become more in-tune with what their core most desperately craves."
"So you think it's related to my obsession?" Wes asked. Clockwork only stared with a wry smirk. "...No direct answers, right. But I don't even know what mine is yet. And what kind of obsession would make me grow fangs, anyway?"
"There are many obsessions that could cause one to grow fangs," Clockwork said. "It could also be an emerging power. It's hardly common for a ghost to be able to shapeshift, but it's been known to happen."
"You say that like you don't age or de-age every three seconds," Danny snorted. Clockwork smiled humorously with a childish, buck-toothed smirk.
"Of course, it's always possible that your form changed simply because you found the change interesting," the ageless ghost hummed. "However, whatever the actual cause, cosmetic changes such as this always have to do with the reflection of the self."
"...Reflection of the self?" Wes parroted. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"What all of my proposed possibilities have in common," Clockwork replied, "is that they relate to your self-image. It may be conscious, or it may be subconscious. Whatever the case may be, a ghost's core always responds to the perception of the self. For some, their obsession is all they are. For others, their form is what they wish it to be, and for others still it's a projection of their base thoughts and feelings. Those without some sense of self, of belonging, are entirely formless, with no emotion with which to tether their essence. I cannot say why, precisely, your ghost form has changed. It is up to you to figure that out, if that is what you wish to do."
Wes hummed in thought. A reflection of the self... That would imply that something had changed internally first, right? Danny had never implied that obsessions could change, only that indulging in them was healthy. Could he have accidentally stumbled upon it, and feeding into it had changed his form? He ran his tongue over his fangs. Though they would take a little getting used to, Wes definitely couldn't say he minded them. They were actually kind of cool, made him feel like a vampire or something. Made him feel other in such an enticing way. Or did their emergence have to do with a shift in his mental image of himself? Was there anything that could have made him start to look at himself differently? There wasn't anything specific that he could mentally pin down, except maybe his recent appearances in news articles. Would that be enough? Clockwork had given him so many possible explanations, and Wes was struggling to figure out which one was the correct answer, they all seemed so plausible-
"So he's going to be okay?" Danny asked, interrupting Wes's mental rambling.
Clockwork nodded, the gesture more of an acknowledgement than an agreement. "Most likely, yes, he will be fine. The chances of him becoming a major threat to your world and to the Ghost Zone are infinitesimally small, and I can assure you that the appearance of fangs does not correlate to those futures."
Danny's shoulders sagged with relief. "I didn't think so, but hearing you say it makes me feel a lot better." He paused. "...And Dan is still locked up, right?"
Dan? Did Danny mean... "So wait, the version of you that was strong enough to destroy two worlds is here?!" Wes exclaimed.
"I assure you that Dan Phantom is currently secure and unable to escape," Clockwork replied, waving his hand and willing a thermos into existence. A heavily dented thermos. And even though there was nothing overtly unsettling about it, Wes could feel an almost overwhelming malice radiating from it in roiling waves. He gulped. "Seeing as his original timeline no longer exists, he exists as an entity outside of time itself, but I have him kept in a stasis bubble. As long as I remain standing, he cannot escape."
Danny didn't seem to like the sight of the thermos, either. He took a small step back, staring at the damaged prison as he nodded anxiously. "...Alright. If you're sure he won't be getting out any time soon." Clockwork smiled, and that looked to be just enough to put Danny's nerves at ease.
With another twirl of Clockwork's wrist, the canister disappeared. "Now, I'm afraid I don't have much more time in my busy schedule, but maybe I could convince you to stay for... you both like tea, don't you? I would like to get to know Wesley better. There is much that can be learned about an individual from a distance, but I much prefer a more... personable approach, where possible."
"...The Master of Time can have a busy schedule?" Wes blurted. Danny elbowed him.
"Well. I wouldn't mind sticking around a little longer," the Halfa said. "What about you, Wes? What do you say?"
Wes pursed his lips, frowning thoughtfully. He didn't know what to think of this strange ghost. He was enigmatic and vague, and knew things that he should rightfully have no way of knowing. It was unsettling, foreboding to have someone who already knew so much about him, especially someone so powerful. And he wanted to keep them there so he could learn more? Talk about creepy.
...But Wes couldn't deny that it was an intriguing offer. Unnerving behavior aside, Clockwork was an ally of Danny's, and if there was one thing Wes was sure of, it was that he could trust his judgement. Besides, he was in the presence of what could very well be one of the most knowledgeable ghosts in the Zone. For all that Clockwork wanted to know about him, there was so much that Wes could learn from him, too. All around him amongst the bizarre machinery were shelves among shelves of books. It would take months to pore through all of it, and this was just one floor of a very, very big tower. Maybe Clockwork couldn't tell him his future, but maybe that didn't mean he wouldn't be willing to entertain a question or two about, say, ghost culture, or biology, or language. There was a lot Wes wanted to learn, and maybe, Clockwork was the right ghost for that.
Wes smiled, his grin all teeth as his cheeks lit up a bright, ecstatic yellow. "...Yeah. Tea sounds nice."
And there you have it, one fangy boy! I've been wanting to give him those for a long time, but I didn't want it to happen too soon for reasons I have yet to reveal. ;)
I've got something of a plan for the next two chapters, but as for the next one, I kinda know the plot but not the layout yet. Hopefully it won't take me two months, I don't foresee it being a long chapter. But I think you guys are gonna be happy when you see it! :D
