Chapter 7: Pleasantly Optimistic

Danny curled deeper into his blankets, careful not to touch his wounded arm as he did so. It was already morning and quite cold outside judging by the rain that was still pelting against the window. The clobbering of heavy shoes finally forced the teenager out of his dreamlike state. He yawned loudly, kicked off his blankets, and looked over to the bed Vlad usually slept in. Moneybags wasn't there. This would have usually been normal, but his Packers football pillow was missing.

The hairs on the back of the teenager's neck rose in distress. Where was he?

After ten minutes of pretending not to care where the millionaire was, Danny finally couldn't take it anymore. Did the man leave him alone finally? Was Vlad mad at him for the fight they had yesterday and had decided to keep his distance?

"Well, he deserved it. Sneaking up on me with that little surprise," Not that being someone's godfather was a little thing, Danny thought bitterly.

"Well … it was kind of obvious, but he's still a jerk!" Danny continued to talk to himself like someone from a mental institution until he heard the squeak of sneakers. The figure of Thomas slowly passed by and Danny found himself calling out to him.

The tall muscular nurse, Thomas, slipped, sliding a foot or two as he came to a halt in front of Danny's door. "What's up, my man? You feeling better?"

"Yeah," said Danny, finally realizing his fever was gone. "Hey Thomas, where's Vlad?"

Thomas scratched at the stubble on his chin for a second. " … Vlad Masters?"

"Yes."

"Gone." The male figure said simply before his beeper went off. "Whoa, I gotta go. We'll talk later kid."

And before Danny could ask any more questions, the nurse had run off with worries of his own.

Gone. A simple word on its own, but it was accompanied by so many other questions: Where? Why?

Danny hated being lost in his own thoughts, especially recently, so he pulled himself out of bed, ignoring the protests of his aching muscles. The teenager then wandered aimlessly around his room still lost in his thoughts. Vlad had left him. It was as simple as that. Did he abandon him? Was he left alone permanently? did Vlad realize Danny wasn't worth the effort?

Danny didn't get it! Not the questions but the fact that he was sad that Vlad left without saying anything. Why should he be sad? Vlad hated him and he hated Vlad. That was how it had always been. He should be grateful that Vlad was gone.

And yet … a silent tear slid down his cheek. Everyone was gone. Vlad was all he had left and deep down a small part of him knew that.

Nonetheless, he violently wiped away the tear and left his empty room.

…

Danny sulked for the rest of the day. The same questions kept roaming over Danny's mind, mocking him like a buzzing insect. Why did Vlad leave without saying a word? Why weren't his ghost powers working? Why did that flaming thing kill his family and not him? The most irritating question that seemed to hang heavily on his mind was: why the hell did he miss that irritating jerk? These questions frustrated him with such ferocity that he wanted to take the nearest stethoscope and strangle something with it.

So, to ignore the need for an unpleasant murder, Danny continued to walk aimlessly around the hospital, occasionally running into glass doors when he wasn't paying attention.

The teenager had just run into his second glass door near the waiting room and was rubbing his nose as he tried not to curse in public, "Stupid mother ... ugh. Why do they have to make the glass so clean?"

Immediately, a voice quipped behind him, "Well, it isn't clean anymore. It has your face's outline on it."

Danny turned around, already mortified, expecting to see Dash or some other jerk from school. Instead, it was Mr. Smith. The man was a jerk, yes, but not as infuriating as Dash and his peers. The lawyer was currently seated in one of the waiting room chairs reading the newspaper. Danny rolled his eyes. What his parents saw in this overprice suit-monkey was beyond him. Then again, if it had been his dad that hired the man, he could see the reasoning behind it. Must have been one of mom's off days.

"Hello, Mr. Smith. What are you doing here?" asked the child suspiciously. "If you want to see Vlad, he left."

"Did he now?" asked the man in a slightly worried tone which was quickly covered up with a warm smile, "Well, doesn't matter. I'm here on a case for Mr. Paulson. He wants to sue the sleeping pill company and the whiskey company for making such convincing labels. He says they made him try to commit suicide."

Smith laughed heartily with a fangy smile like it was all a big joke.

Danny, besides himself, could only grimace wondering how that was funny. Maybe ... Mr. Smith just had a dark sense of humor.

Smith, seemingly oblivious to the teenager's stiff posture, patted the seat next to him. "Come sit next to me, Danny. You seem a bit down. Wanna tell me what's bothering you?"

"Depends," said Danny with a shrug, taking the offered seat. "Are you going to charge me for this advice."

Rodger at first look surprised before laughing, "Well, Vlad won't notice a few more minutes on his bill."

Slouching his shoulders, snorting at his godfather's expense, Danny was at first not going to say much. But, there was just something about Rodger Smith ... that made him want to talk. So, he did.

"I better run up the bill then," said the teenager bitterly, as he waved a hand in the air. "He just ... he just. He's a jerk. He just blindsided me with this whole godfather thing and then left. Are you sure Vlad is my godfather or at least made sure my parents weren't possessed when they signed the paperwork? Their signatures have to be fake because there's no way my parents would willingly leave me with him."

The lawyer blinked as if surprised by the outburst before he laughed, shaking his head. "Don't much care for him, do you?"

Sitting up straighter, Danny found a familiar anger returning. A feeling that had been deadened by mourning and regret. The fire was still there though ... and it had not forgotten what Vlad Masters was.

And it was angry at everyone.

"No! I don't know why mom and dad left me to him. Lancer would have been better! And now, all of a sudden, he just leaves without even a word just when I thought he cared. Just went I started to believe that I … I wasn't alone."

Shutting up, a little fearful about what he had just said aloud, Smith merely gave Danny a sad smile before reaching into his briefcase. He then pulled out what looked like a simple notebook and handed it to the confused teenager. His words were simple and yet oddly comforting. "I'm sure he feels the same way. Adopting can be hard on both parties, but the best thing to do is express yourself in a healthy manner. Since Vlad isn't here, why don't you just write down what you want to say to him … or anyone you can't speak to at the moment. Souls are eternal."

Danny blinked, surprised by the man's sudden wisdom. There was certainly something odd about him.

"Thanks …"

…

Smith had wandered off shortly after giving Danny the notebook. He had people to see apparently and had left the teenager to his own devices. Danny, not knowing what else to do, soon found himself in the cafeteria with his newly acquired notebook. He could write about anything. His feelings, his fears, his worries, things to say to Vlad when the abandoner returned. He could also write to his family. He could write about his dreams and his hopes for a future that they were no longer part of.

And that hurt.

He didn't want to hurt anymore.

And so, the longer he sat there, staring at those horizontal lines, the more enraged he became. So, feeling vindictive, the teenager started to write in a vigorous manner.

Ten Ways to Kill Vlad Masters

By Danny Fenton

1) Poison cappuccino with arsenic. (Where do you get that stuff?)

2) Push him off a cliff. (Hopefully, he doesn't want to fly.)

3) Smother him with a pillow. (And then he doesn't phase through it!)

4) Drown him in a bathtub. (And he doesn't blast a hole in the side of the tub and let all the water out.)

5) Say you want to learn how to be a man through hunting, shoot him, and claim it was a hunting accident. (Hopefully, he doesn't go invisible.)

6) Push him into a bed of nails. (Wait … um …blood … ugh.)

7) Push him down a flight of stairs! (Wait isn't that for pregnancies?)

8) Leave a sub sandwich, with mayonnaise on it, out in the sun and feed it to him. He might get food poisoning and die. (Does Vlad even eat subs?)

9) Poison his sushi. (I still need arsenic.)

10) Make him watch the speed channel! He'll die of boredom. (Does he even have cable?)

11) Make him donate blood. (Wait … how is that deadly?)

Danny finally slammed his head into the table once he noticed he was on eleven and all of his ideas sucked anyway. Why couldn't he even come up with a good murder scheme? Pluto of the Underworld, had he really been this stupid his whole life and hadn't noticed until now.

"This is stupid. Killing him probably wouldn't even make me feel better," groused Danny, his anger drowned. "Maybe I should just write angry poetry."

Staring at the horizontal lines for a moment more he drew a few lines. Circles intertwining with each other, but there was one circle that was alone. By itself. Just like he was by himself.

"I'm not lonely," growled the teenager as he slammed the notebook shut. Honestly, it felt as if someone was making plans behind his back in a chess game. And he had no plans on being anyone's pawn.

…

Elsewhere sat a man with a lot on his plate and not of the foodstuffs kind. He was a business owner, a scientist, a football fan and an oddity of the supernatural. Not that he was any of those things right now. He was a man … a man struggling to figure out what it meant to be a father or a caretaker in the very least.

It was far more stressful than any business contract.

Sitting before his desk, a day of business having settled in his bones, Vlad leaned into his hands glad for the sturdiness of his cherrywood desk. He was feeling old and worn, and he didn't know in the least how to deal with a broke and angry teenager.

Yet, the silence could not continue. Suddenly, the door slammed open, a cloud of ghostly smoke sneaking in. Vlad automatically tightened. He had sent most of his ghostly underlings away since his recent discovery about his godson, so that left only one ghost. "Skulker were the dramatics really necessary?"

Smirking, the hunter came into the room, ghostly mist settling at his feet. He then slammed a ghost cage on the table, scattering Vlad's paperwork to all corners of the room like scattering birds. The millionaire glared at the spirit before him for a moment, a mixture of repugnance and curiosity churning in his stomach. What was with the cage of ghost mice?

"I managed to de-ghost the house of any unwanted personnel," added the spirit in his usual cocky tone as he sat down and propped his feet up in Vlad's desk, "That is except for the Dairy King. He's quick for one so fat."

The hunter then leaned back in the chair, getting comfortable. There was a moment of silence before the ghost dropped his feet from the desk, leaning forward to ask Vlad a question, as if it were a secret, "Why did you want me to de-ghost the house anyway?"

The half-ghost's lip twitched and he leaned back, seemingly tired as he grumbled, "I was calling in an interior design… I have to prepare a room for a long term guest."

"A long term guest, huh?" asked Skulker, his expression a little more serious. "Does it have anything to do with a rumor I heard about the ghost child?"

Vlad's knuckles turned white and he wanted to blast Skulker for his uncanny knowledge, but resisted. He had invited the hunter into his territory so making an enemy of the hunter wouldn't be a brilliant idea. Besides, he kind of respected the spirit. "Your perceptiveness is uncanny, Skulker. Pray tell, where did you hear that?"

It was silent for a moment more, the air thick with tension. The grin on the hunter's face had dispersed complete at this point like sand in the wind. Dropping his feet off the desk, Skulker eyes glowed darkly, "I have my ways … now tell me. Where is the ghost child? My wall is awaiting his pelt."

The hunter didn't even get to finish his rant though when Vlad suddenly burst to his feet, his form seeming dark and foreboding as the man's eyes glowed, light bleeding away from his face in a display of rage and power.

"For your information, Skulker," came the half ghost in an almost sad tone, "Daniel isn't here yet. He's presently at the Greenwood Hospital. He will be coming to live here because there's no one left to take care of him. Personally, I would rather have that growing power of his somewhere I can observe and control it. I don't need some kind of wild card running about. So, this castle is to be a home to him ... even if I have to move some Packers' memorabilia to make room for him. It's nothing compared to what that boy's lost."

"Well, I didn't see that coming," said Skulker, slouching in his seat slightly after a moment of thoughtful silence. This was certainly an interesting development. He had noticed Vlad's strange behavior earlier, but he never expected that the old bachelor had become a parent on his trip.

The hunter sighed after a brief thought. He was going to regret this. It was best for one to get out of a situation before they could become attached, but it was a bit late for that. Vlad owned more than his loyalty after all.

"And as much as I despise the whelp, I will help you keep the child under wraps," added Skulker seriously as his wicked grin returned, Vlad giving him an unconvinced glance. "Besides, who else is going to give you design ideas? Honestly, I think we should plaster the brat's room in dead animal skins. Fur rugs and stuffed heads abound."

Vlad, despite himself, looked dumbfounded for a moment before he threw his head back in a laugh, his smile returning, "Am I decorating a room for Daniel or you, Skulker?"

"Well, if things with the whelp don't work out, you can always adopt me," joked Skulker with a cheeky grin. "So, can I tell the interior designers what to do?"

The depression chased away for a moment, Vlad slowly stood up and walked over to one of the painted windows to stare out. The light danced in small triangles, lightly touching his face in an almost a loving manner as if trying to soothe him in some way. The man reached up, his fingers feeling the cool glass. He needed to think.

"Do whatever you think is best, Skulker, but please at least appear to be human. I don't need the help being scared off because right now I need some time to myself."

Rising to his own feet, wondering what disguise he could scrounge up, Skulker asked blatantly, "Good or bad thoughts if I may ask?"

Smiling slightly, happy with Skulker's promise for assistance when it came to dealing with Daniel, Masters murmured, "Right now, pleasantly optimistic."

XXX

Paw07: This is just a short filler chapter, but I thought the list was kind of funny at least. Also, Skulker is the best! I love him. As for the updates, the last scene was pretty much trashed and made a lot more serious.

(Revision February 2020)