Author's Note: Up next: some answers and exposition (but only some), with a side helping of angst. Yay! As a frame of reference for any pop culture mentions, this AU takes place in the year 2013. I may or may not make little nods to that year every so often.

P.S. This chapter is a bit shorter than I initially planned, so I'm also aiming to post a super-special bonus weekend chapter by/on Sunday.

Chapter Four: The Red Pill

"This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. You take the blue pill – the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill – you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. Remember, all I'm offering is the truth – nothing more."

-Morpheus, The Matrix

-xxx-

What if… what if this wasn't a dream? The idea sent a glacial tremor from the back of Danny's neck all the way down his spine.

At the beginning of the summer, Jazz had made him watch The Matrix for the first time. Right off the bat, he was hesitant. First of all, it was an older movie (to him), and second, it wasn't even about space. Two strikes right there. Plus, it involved hanging out with his sister. But Tucker was out of town that week, so Danny didn't really have a valid excuse. And Jazz stuck by her movie pick, insisting that it had "powerful themes that make us question our human existence and very relationship with reality," and since Danny didn't have an adequate response to that, he agreed as long as Jazz made popcorn.

But surprisingly, he had really liked it – though a bit confusing it times, it had a bunch of genuinely crazy plot twists, and Keanu Reeves was cool. But there was one part, where Lawrence Fishburne offered Keanu Reeves the blue pill or the red pill, that freaked Danny out for some reason. Lawrence Fishburne's character, Morpheus, had this whole serious speech about choosing a happy, ignorant life or knowing and facing the hard truth, and Danny thought that if he were in Keanu's position, he would've probably taken the blue pill. But it didn't matter, because right now, he had been given the red pill without any choice in the matter.

Danny figured there were a few viable possibilities.

Either: (a) he was surrounded by insane adults who truly believed that they were drinking blood to survive; (b) his hallucinations had gone way past 'Tainted-by-Bad-Cooking' territory and moved straight into 'I-Need-Therapy-Thanks-to-My-Vampire-Obsessed-Parents'; or (c) this was real. But that was impossible. Vampires didn't exist. He knew that. He repeated the universally known fact like a mantra.

Just then, from a hidden pocket against his left thigh, Danny felt a forceful vibration. You mean… I still have my phone?! What?! I… I can't believe I didn't lose it during that fight!

Danny actually wanted to dedicate an embarrassingly over-the-top shrine to the Undead Repellant Armor at this point. (He would never admit that to his parents, though.) Evidently, not only were the U.R.A. pockets completely battle-proof, but the suit legitimately did what it was designed to do. Who could've guessed that? Danny didn't register a single bite mark anywhere on his skin, even though he remembered the blatant attempts with a full-body shudder.

Danny was relieved, shocked, and instantly apprehensive, too, at the mere thought of looking at his phone. He had no idea what time it was or who had tried contacting him since everything had happened, which was making his stomach clench with worry. He steeled himself before reaching into the pocket of his suit, but froze as he noticed that something was off, wrong somehow. The U.R.A. was no longer a light gray, but colored midnight-black. What in the world…?

Then Danny noticed his hands – they looked like they had been completely drained of color. Maybe at first, he could have chalked it up (ha) to the abnormal underground lighting – but they were just so paper-white…it was eerie.

Bottom line: Danny was scared. He had been earlier, of course, but he had also been convinced that he was hallucinating.

He was increasingly dismissing that idea – which he hated – but his mind never could've come up with this. It was too twisted. He didn't want to think about what it meant… if his body was so cold that his suit was now black… if his hands were so pale that they were practically glowing in the dimness…

It was like he was looking at a very clear math problem, one that Danny didn't want to solve.

One plus one equals… vampire.

Vampire. That stupid word. The subject of mockery thanks to a certain sparkly, angst-ridden Edward Cullen. The stuff of black-and-white horror movies. The starring characters in soap opera-esque teen dramas and classic Stephen King and Anne Rice novels alike. The beings that no one seriously believed in, except his parents. (Plus that one friend that his parents had met in college. What was his name? Brad?)

Vampires shouldn't be real. And yet… Maybe there was a reason that so many different cultures had their own versions of the creatures. Maybe there was a reason that vampires appeared in so much ancient lore, and simultaneously captivated so many modern creators.

Danny's brain was starting to hurt, and he realized – as Cal coughed softly – that he'd been silent for an uncomfortably long time, having his own intense internal war. He glanced at Nat, Cal, and Dora, who'd evidently been waiting uneasily for him to work through his obvious mental conflict. Maybe they'd all gone through the same thing, he understood with a start.

"Err, let's say, for the sake of argument, that I believed you. That you guys really are…" Danny really didn't want to say the word out loud, because it sounded frankly way too dumb and unbelievable.

"Vampires," Nat supplied for him as Danny trailed off.

"Right. Okay. If I believed you – and I'm not saying I do – I'd have a lot of questions. Like, you seriously drink…blood? Like, actual blood?" Danny wrinkled his nose, and tried to reign in his disgust, hoping it didn't come across in his line of questioning. He recognized that he was intentionally separating himself from these… vampires… even though he was terrified that he also was one… Nope, not going there, Danny scolded himself mentally.

"I'll take this one, Cal," Nat cut in quietly as Callahan inhaled, clearly about to say something. Nat's voice rose as she turned to answer. "Danny. The answer is yes, but it's complicated. We do need to drink blood. The stories all have that right. But, you see, our coven doesn't take blood from living humans. We drink animal blood, or occasionally our scouts bring back, ah, blood that's already been drawn… like from a hospital."

Nat's expression darkened before she resumed speaking, "There are other covens, though, like the one led by the man who you, um, met in the clearing today. Aragon. His coven… Well, not to get too much into it yet, but let's just say that they think vampires are the superior race, and that killing and draining… humans… is only natural." Nat sighed deeply.

Dora was strangely silent, and Danny noticed that she had gone rigid at the mention of Aragon's name. Cal jumped in at that point, adding, "Do not worry, Danny. Our best shadow fighters drove Aragon's coven away. I am sure you were concerned about your own clan of… hunters." Cal winced at the word, eyes roving over Danny's suit for just a moment too long.

Danny's mind was working on overdrive to process everything he'd been told so far, but it short-circuited the moment Cal alluded to his parents and Jazz. Of course he wanted them to be safe, but truthfully, his mind hadn't even made the jump that they could've been hurt – and badly – until Cal hinted at the possibility. Suddenly Danny was extremely worried about them, and about all the stress his disappearance was sure to be bringing everyone even now. Which brought him back to his phone…

"Okay, yeah, uh, thank you. I was worried, yeah. And sorry to interrupt, but I have to… I'm going to check my phone now to see if they're alright. Just, um, letting you know." Danny rambled awkwardly.

"Your 'phone'?" Cal echoed in confusion.

"It's a common human device, Cal," Nat explained as Danny nodded absentmindedly.

"You know, both of you should really study up on new human technology. It's fascinating," Nat whispered pointedly, eyes darting between Cal and Dora.

Danny chose to disregard Nat's statement – especially the use of the word 'human' as if it was something foreign, other – focusing instead on undoing the zipper from the secret U.R.A. pocket that housed his black iPhone 4.

His parents had finally caved and allowed him to get an iPhone this summer, albeit a slightly older model, even though they both had... opinions about Apple products and inventions. Namely, his dad was convinced that the idea for the original iPhone had somehow been stolen from his own rudimentary blueprints. Danny was more than a little skeptical. Logistically, it just didn't make sense. (When was Jack even in California?) But that was Jack Fenton for you: he didn't need to make sense.

Danny knew he had to look at his phone screen swiftly, like ripping off a Band-Aid. His chest tightened as he finally looked down: the screen flashed, showing 27 missed calls and 16 unread text messages.

Furthermore, it was actually 5 p.m., over six hours after leaving the Fenton Family Vampire Eradication Vehicle. Six. Hours.

All at once, Danny was claustrophobic, and the flattened stone underneath him was painfully noticeable. He started taking in short, frantic breaths. Close your eyes. Focus, he reminded himself, trying to channel Jazz and her seemingly infinite patience. Because, well, Danny was spiraling. He started mentally tallying the breakdown of calls and texts from his friends and family.

Thirteen calls were from his mom. Six were from Jazz. Four were from his dad. Three were from Tucker, and one was from Sam.

Danny felt a bizarre mixture of nervousness and elation staring at the single missed call from Sam. Why he was focusing on that one so intently, he didn't know. Danny pictured her biting her lilac-tinted lips in concern and concentration, the same way she did whenever she was championing for an injured animal or questioning a middle school rule. He shook his head forcefully.

Instead of agonizing over the missed calls, he decided to actually read the texts first.

Of the text messages, seven were from Jazz, five were from Tucker, two were from Sam, and he had one apiece from his mom and dad. He felt the oddest sense of protection toward all of them as he digested everyone's clear distress… which, to be honest, was another thing that bothered him.

Am I still… me? Danny wondered, utterly terrified as the unfamiliar urge to defend his coven (wait…what?) washed over him.

Suddenly, Danny wasn't sure if it was possible for someone's personality to fundamentally change over the course of a day. Was it? Did whatever happened to him do this? That scary thought was the final straw. He wanted his sister, his mom, his dad, and his two best friends with him. (Maybe not here, necessarily, but he wanted to be wherever they all were.)

He felt a bit idiotic for being so emotional about his family and friends, but he was way out of his depth. He clicked on Tucker's messages.

Dude…U must be in some crazy no man's land or something. No signal. Everything good? Tucker texted at 11:35 a.m.

Danny! Ur actually scaring me now. Could you just let me know that ur not dead? Please? That one was sent at 1:04 p.m.

Hey. Uh, best friend? Kinda freaking out here. You haven't answered in like 3 hrs. The timestamp on that text was 2:16 p.m.

Dude. Still can't trace a location? Tucker messaged at 3:18 p.m., and Danny could imagine his panic, especially since Tuck had complete and utter faith in his own technology – especially his PDA of the moment, Clarice. (Yes, Tuck named them all.)

The three question marks were also a clue.

Danny. If this is a joke, I'm pissed. If not CALL ME. Tucker signed off at 4:30 p.m.

Danny immediately started typing out a hasty message – Got lost, not dead, so sorry Tuck! – not even realizing that he was half-lying, but the text bubble quickly registered as 'Undeliverable.' Danny almost threw his phone in frustration.

He folded his arms against the newly black fabric of his suit and decided to focus – yet again – on taking deep breaths. His lungs seemed to struggle each time he tried, however, and he felt his eyes go as wide as saucers at the chilling sensation.

"Young one," Cal began, pausing for only a moment as he moved closer toward Danny, arm outstretched toward him in some sort of gesture of reassurance.

"Why? Why do you keep calling me that?! I'm really not that young!" Danny interrupted whatever Cal was about to finish saying with a huff. Part of him knew he was being moody and a bit irrational, but it seemed like the dial on his emotional scale had been turned up from a manageable five to an eleven.

"I… Alright then, Danny. How many years do you have?" Cal seemed taken aback, but his eyes also shone with the faintest hint of humor.

"Huh? Uh, fourteen. I'm fourteen." Danny blinked as he answered, again overlooking Cal's peculiar phrasing.

When Danny didn't return with the same question for him, Cal spoke up. "I have existed for two-hundred and eighty-five years," he explained solemnly, yet with the barest trace of a smile.

Danny thought that was hysterically amusing for all the wrong reasons.

Once he finished chuckling, Danny said, "You seriously need to work on your sense of humor, all of you." Danny paused as he was met with confused looks from Cal and Dora, and a borderline pitying look from Nat. Ignoring their expressions, Danny picked up his phone. For less than a second, before his phone background (the SpaceX Dragon) loaded, the screen was totally dark, and he caught a glimpse of his reflection.

At least… At least, he thought it was his reflection. But then Danny felt something like blood rushing in his ears, and he only calmed himself down by reminding himself that the lighting was weird down here, wherever the heck he was.

The teen fumbled for his passcode, finally clicking on and opening his phone's camera app with unusually colorless fingers. He didn't breathe as the app loaded.

When it finally did, the face of a stranger blinked back at him. Scared, maroon-colored eyes, were paralyzed as they gazed into the device's camera. The stranger's unfamiliar skin was as white as snow, and the thing's hair was an odd platinum silver, an unusual metallic color that picked up the glow from the surrounding gas-lit lampposts.

All of that was fairly normal in comparison to the state of his reflection overall, however. The general image reminded Danny of looking through frosted glass. The edges were faded, distorted, like a video game character mid-glitch. Danny dropped his phone and screamed.

-xxx-

Author's Note: Fin: Extra brownie points for anyone who caught the little nod to Captain America: Civil War, specifically the intro to Tom Holland's Spidey.