A/N: Chapter title courtesy of melondy-rose on tumblr.

Wes kept his head down for the rest of the school year. No accusations. No displays of evidence or painstaking attempts at gathering anything more concrete. No attempts to convince anyone of the truth, not even Kyle.

Kyle assumed Wes had taken his advice and let the unsettling case of Danny Fenton drop.

As far as Wes could tell, so did everyone else, Fenton included.

It was better that way, even if it left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.

Wes still kept an eye on Fenton, but he kept everything he saw in his head. No more attempts to catch something on camera or otherwise get solid proof. That was too dangerous. He wasn't willing to risk his family for this. He wanted to protect them, and getting them dragged into the crossfire because of his investigation wasn't protecting them. It was far safer to scour the internet for job postings out-of-state and leave them where his dad could see them—along with a decent list of potential properties to rent or buy and some glowing reviews about the company and the city in general, naturally.

Vlad Masters might not have threatened him directly, but Wes remembered the chill he'd gotten when Vlad had looked at him.

He'd gone out of his way to avoid the mayor since, though it hadn't taken much effort. When he'd heard about Vlad coming over for dinner again, the idea itself had made him sick to his stomach. He hadn't had to fake anything. Lying in bed with an old ice cream pail in easy reach had been infinitely preferable to facing the eldritch horror of the creature smooth talking the rest of Wes's family in the dining room.

Wes's post-graduation plan was simple: get out of Dodge as quickly as humanly possible. Enough other kids had the itch to ditch the small town for the big city that it wouldn't seem terribly out of place. He was headed to college on a basketball scholarship, and he'd live in the dorms, so he wouldn't need to bring much with him. In the meantime, he'd get a summer job far away from Amity Park on the pretence of earning some money towards paying for what his scholarship didn't.

It wasn't the solution he wanted.

He wanted to tell every hunter in town. He'd start with the Fentons, since everyone knew where they lived, and then catch the Red Huntress after a ghost hunt. He'd give them all his evidence, even though Kyle had never believed a word of it, even though most of it was circumstantial. At least once they knew, they'd be warned, and if they didn't believe him at first, they could look at the situation with fresh eyes, and then maybe they'd finally see it.

He wasn't sure he could hope for anything better.

After all, the Fentons? It wasn't a truth they'd want to see, and not just because it implied awful things about their parenting and observation skills. It would mean accepting that their son wasn't human. That he wasn't the boy they thought he was. That they might very well be the reason why. They hunted Phantom without knowing the truth, but Wes wasn't sure if they'd have the courage to hunt him once they did. He didn't know if they'd see their son or the monster he'd become, the monster who had replaced him.

He didn't know if they'd want to acknowledge the danger they were in—the entire town was in—on more than one front, either.

Danny Fenton was Danny Phantom, and Vlad Masters…. Wes had no hard evidence of this, but he believed Vlad Masters was Vlad Plasmius. The so-called Wisconsin Ghost. Who very notably no longer haunted Wisconsin.

He'd spent enough time combing through reports of ghost sightings on the internet to know that. He'd spent enough time looking into more, ah, low-tech ways of dealing with them, too, just to be subtle when it came to protecting himself and his family, but he had no idea if any of that stuff actually worked. Like, sure, this one group he'd found, the Ghostfacers— They had videos, but any footage Wes had seen anywhere hadn't ever shown him a ghost like Fenton. If Fenton even was a ghost. Wes honestly wasn't sure anymore.

Maybe he should've held off accepting his scholarship until he'd actually heard back from one of the other universities in Alaska or Hawaii, even if they weren't known for any of the programs he wanted to study. Or, heck, he should've given more thought to the out-of-country ones where he'd sent off applications. It would've cost far more to be an international student, but Wes already knew he'd be drowning in student loans, scholarship or no, when he didn't have a full ride. He should have taken on more debt to be able to have that extra bit of distance between him and, well, the ghosts.

Then again, that additional financial burden would make his dad more reluctant to move than he already was, and Wes really wanted his family out of here.

Jumping state wouldn't be enough to get out of Vlad's influence, but it might make things harder. At least, it might make it just enough trouble that it wasn't worth the bother. That he wasn't worth the bother. Wes could only hope.

"Dude, it's our last day. Stop making that face. You're supposed to be happy that we're almost free. You're the one who can't wait to get out of this town."

"Please don't say that here," Wes mumbled. Who knew who or what was listening? Not him. Not when those ears could be invisible. Or in the brick walls of the school just ahead of them. Or the trees. Or—

"I'm just worried about you. You've been down for weeks. Months. What gives?"

"Nothing."

"Bro." Kyle caught his arm, forcing Wes to stop mere yards from the main doors of Casper High. "You don't need to lie to me. You keep trying to dodge this conversation. I've noticed. I'm not stupid."

What was Wes supposed to say? He already knew Kyle wouldn't believe the truth. He'd tried to explain it before he'd ever realized exactly how dangerous it was. Before realizing what he'd gotten himself into. What he'd nearly gotten them all into.

Wes shrugged and mumbled, "I'm nervous is all." It wasn't entirely a lie. He was nervous—just about Vlad Masters and Danny Fenton and what they might do to him and his family, not about leaving Amity Park. He wasn't remotely nervous about that. He was nervous about what he was leaving behind.

Kyle studied him for several long seconds. "You know you can talk to me."

"I know."

Wes's words weren't convincing, and they both knew it.

"What's really eating you?"

"Nothing! I'm fine!"

"Dude, c'mon."

"I'm fine."

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "Are you still on about Danny and pretending you aren't so I won't bug you?"

Siblings were not supposed to be this intuitive. Okay, so they were, but at more convenient times. This was distinctly not convenient. For either of them. "We're gonna be late." Wes jerked his head toward the doors and started walking.

Kyle didn't follow. "Wes, seriously, I promise I won't tease you. Too much. Just talk to me, okay?"

"Later," Wes said. He meant never, but saying later would buy him a bit of time. If he was lucky, Kyle would forget about it. He probably wouldn't, since it was Kyle, but later didn't have to mean later today. It could mean much later, once Wes had figured out what to do about Fenton, or Vlad, or anything, if he could do something. He'd just….

Ignorance was bliss. Kyle was a great example of that. And Wes didn't want to burst his bubble anymore, because in his case, ignorance also meant protection, not danger.

Or rather, it meant more protection than danger, at this precise time, and while Wes didn't know when that was going to change, he was betting that it wasn't going to change today.

Kyle opened his mouth to say something more, likely an argument Wes would have a harder time evading than a plea, but then the bell rang, and Wes had an excuse to run.

He couldn't escape his thoughts as easily as he had his brother.

And, judging by the way Kyle managed to find him at lunch despite Wes's best efforts not to be found, he wasn't very good at escaping anything.

Wes was rehashing the consequences of what telling other people might mean for them, not to mention him, when there came a knock on the bathroom stall door. Specifically, the bathroom stall door he'd locked and was hiding behind. In the boy's changeroom. It was as far from anywhere—anyone—as he'd been able to think of getting without leaving school grounds and needing to sign out.

Shave and a haircut was rapped out again, and Wes reluctantly set his feet back on the floor as he sounded out two knocks of his own—two bits—and unlocked the door. "How the heck did you find me?"

"You're predictable," Kyle said. "Like I said, I'm not stupid. And your phone is on. Can we at least go somewhere it doesn't smell like stale sweat to talk?"

He wasn't even bothering to ask if they could talk anymore. Wes got to his feet, making his reluctance known in every glare and dragged footstep. Still, he cut across the gym to the back door and followed Kyle around and under the football bleachers, stopping where Kyle deemed it a safe distance from anyone else. Wes frowned in the direction of some of the other students he could see, but Kyle just gave him a look in return and Wes knew that stubbornness coming out when he saw it.

"Thank you," Kyle said, which was a sappier start to a conversation Wes knew he was going to hate than he would've expected. Really, though, he shouldn't be surprised. Kyle had his moments. This was just one of those moments. "Because I…. You know I'm worried about you, right? You don't have any friends."

Aaaaand there it was. The tiny barbs that might only be somewhat intentional but still served their purpose of getting under Wes's skin. "Gee, thanks." He should just walk away. He didn't have time for this. This was his last day to do something, if he could find the nerve to do anything, and—

"Not real ones," insisted Kyle. "You've gotta admit that. I mean, you've got people you'll hang out with sometimes, but you don't have anyone you trust. And something's eating you. I know it. So why don't you want to talk to me, if you won't trust whatever this is with someone else? You know I've got your back—"

"You don't!" Wes snapped. "I've tried talking to you. You don't believe me. You don't believe any of this!" He'd feel bad for this later, but he was so frustrated and angry now that he just didn't care. Fenton was a ghost and his dad's boss was the same thing and he hadn't realized for years and now they were onto him and— "I tell you what I've seen, and you dismiss me. I give you evidence, and you come up with some wild explanation for what you think is rational and logical as if any of that applies in this town! Open your bloody eyes, Kyle, and accept that ghosts are real and this town is haunted or accept that you really don't care about anything I say!"

"This isn't just about ghosts. You've been on that for years. Something changed."

"Yeah," muttered Wes bitterly. "I realized they have more power than I thought." Okay, maybe it was dangerous to admit that, but it had to be more dangerous for Kyle to keep pushing. He wasn't leaving town in the next week. Wes was.

Kyle just raised his eyebrows.

At least it wasn't an argument or some snide remark about how this was about Fenton after all.

Wes sighed. "I know you don't believe me," he repeated. "I know you think I'm crazy sometimes. I know you think Fenton is a normal kid. But just…. Even if you have to stay friendly with him, just keep your distance? For me? Don't, like, go over to his house or anything?"

"He's not some wicked witch who's going to eat me. He's just taking a gap year like me. Some of us aren't lucky enough to get scholarships."

Wes groaned and was about to snap out a retort when he realized that he could see around the corner of the school from this vantage point, just barely. A tree, the corner of a picnic table—

—and one pale face staring in their direction.

Wes didn't need to be able to make out any details to know who it was. He cursed and grabbed Kyle to pull them both out of sight, even though he was pretty sure that wouldn't do any good. Kyle just looked amused. He glanced back in the direction Wes had looked and must have figured out what Wes had seen; everyone knew that was the table where Fenton, Foley, and Manson sat.

"You really don't think you're taking this too far?"

"Kyle, he's dead. Even if he's not a ghost, he's something."

"What, zombie? Vampire? Who's supposed to be the undead again?"

"No! Just…. I don't even know."

"So we're back to human."

"Not human! That's the point." And the problem. "Look, he's not the only one." Wes could only hope nothing was around to overhear him saying this. "You remember dad's boss? I…. I think he's one, too. A ghost, or a not-ghost, or whatever."

"You should really make up our mind if you're going to accuse—"

"Dammit, just listen to me for once. You already know these guys can pass as human. I just…. That's terrifying, okay? He's walking around pretending to be a normal kid, and he's not, but people buy it because they can't tell, but he knows I know, and—"

"Everyone knows what you think. That's not news. Danny's just being a good sport about it. Because he's a nice kid. Not some kind of ghost monster creature thing or whatever you've convinced yourself."

Kyle wasn't going to listen.

No matter what Wes said, he wasn't going to listen.

What kind of power did Fenton have that no one could see it? Was Wes lucky to be immune or just extremely unfortunate? How the heck could he even begin to expose someone who seemed to have some kind of superpower that let him keep his secret? It's not like Fenton was subtle some days.

"But, if it cheers you up, I promise to never let him corner me alone in a dark room or anything like that. I'm not into that kind of thing."

That might be the best he was going to get, and it made Wes's stomach turn. They were in so much danger, and they didn't even know. He wasn't some crackpot doomsayer. This was real. And Fenton…Fenton….

"Maybe you should talk to him, bro. It might help you sleep at night. I'll come with you."

That was a terrible idea.

Wes told Kyle so.

Apparently, Kyle didn't listen to that, either. He caught Wes at the end of the day before he had a chance to leave Casper High behind forever, and Wes didn't realize he was stalling him before they were alone.

Well.

Almost alone.

Wes didn't notice when Fenton materialized to lean against the opposite wall. He did become aware of Manson and Foley hovering in the background, snickering.

"Dude," Kyle said when Wes shot him a betrayed look. "Trust me." He walked off to talk to Manson and Foley, within sight but only within earshot if he were paying attention, and Wes knew he wouldn't be.

"I heard you wanted to talk, Wes," Fenton said. "What's up?"

Wes wondered if running away would help when Fenton could easily catch up if he flew.

"I mean, I'm not blind. I know what's up. But it's common courtesy if you tell me."

"What did Kyle say to you?"

"Nothing I didn't already know. I mean, you've never really liked me. And there's the low-key stalking. And, y'know, that face you make when you look at me, like the one you're making now. You're not as subtle as you think."

"Neither are you."

Fenton raised an eyebrow.

"C'mon, you have to own up to this," Wes said, trying not to make it sound like the plea it was. Even to his own ears, it was painfully clear that he'd failed miserably. "You just…. You can't pretend none of this…." He swallowed and latched onto the old rumour. It was safer until he knew how Fenton was going to react. "You can't let everyone keep thinking I'm Phantom when you're, y'know."

Fenton smiled. His teeth were a touch too long and just this side of too sharp. "Whaddaya mean?"

Instinct was telling Wes to get out of there, but he held his ground.

"You're Phantom," he said, remembering the last time he'd made this accusation to Fenton's face. "I know you're Phantom. I've seen you change."

Danger, shouted his mind as it reminded him of all possible exits. Run, thundered his heart, beating faster with each passing second. Get away, screamed his muscles, tensed and ready to spring.

He was standing there waiting for an answer, gulping in lungfuls of air, before he realized the unnerving feeling had entirely disappeared.

Fenton was frowning. "I don't know what you're talking about."

His teeth looked normal. His face, his demeanour…. It all seemed perfectly normal.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Wes hissed. "The…the glowing eyes, the freaky stuff you do, everything!"

Fenton blinked slowly, giving what must be the most incredulous look he could muster.

"Stop doing that! You know what I mean!"

"Phantom's dead, Wes," Fenton said. He glanced over at Kyle. "He was dead long before you guys ever moved here. No one seriously thinks you're him."

"So you admit you're dead, then? Because you're Phantom?" Fenton had never said as much when Wes had pushed before, but if Wes could just catch him, especially with Kyle close by—

Fenton laughed. "Phantom's a ghost," he said. "Ghosts are dead. I do not need to have grown up with the parents I did to know that. Do I look dead to you?"

It was almost exactly like what he'd said last time, but Wes wasn't sure if it was a deliberate callback or if he'd already forgotten that.

"Stop playing games! You know what you are. What you both are."

Fenton stilled, and Wes was incredibly aware that he'd just made a mistake. He'd called Fenton dangerous, but up to this point, Fenton had just been toying with him. Right now? It looked like he was tensed and ready to strike.

The desire to run flooded back, but Wes's feet wouldn't move.

"Both?"

The question was a low whisper that spread ice down Wes's spine.

Fenton was not surprised. He was…. Not angry, exactly, nor frightened, more…. Cornered, and more dangerous for it. Deadly. Completely unafraid of using his power. He straightened, turning slightly away from his friends and Kyle, and fixed bright green eyes on Wes. "Who are you talking about?"

Wes's mouth worked, but nothing came out. In the stretching silence, he heard a cell phone go off—Kyle's, by the ringtone—and he managed to break Fenton's paralyzing gaze in time to see his brother walking away to answer it, unwittingly leaving him behind to face whatever came next. Kyle disappeared around the corner. Wes felt his chest constrict as he wondered wildly if he was going to get the chance to see him again, get the chance to properly apologize—

"Answer me."

Wes licked dry lips, met Danny's unnerving gaze again, and managed to force out, "Vlad Masters."

Fenton snorted, the green glow in his eyes vanishing to leave behind ordinary blue in a blink. Wes found that he could breathe again. "The mayor? Don't worry about him."

It wasn't exactly a denial.

"I mean, I guess he's not harmless, but he is a fruitloop who has better things to worry about than you."

"If I keep my mouth shut, you mean?"

Fenton smirked. "Especially if you keep your mouth shut."

Wes took a slow breath. "Is that a promise?" It was a thin offer of protection that Wes hadn't expected, but—

"What, you think I have some kind of influence over the mayor?"

Judging by the number of times he'd seen Phantom square off with Plasmius and give as good as he took? Yeah, Wes did think Fenton had some influence—especially since Phantom's bouts with Plasmius weren't as frequent now as they'd once been. Admittedly, none of the ghost sightings were as frequent as they'd once been, but everyone (not only Wes) assumed that was due to Phantom's influence.

Knowing that invading ghosts respected Phantom's power enough to back off hadn't been as comforting to Wes as it was to others.

"Okay, look," Fenton said, pulling Wes's attention back to the present, "it's been a fun run, but can we put this behind us now? I mean, you're leaving Amity Park. I'm staying here to help my parents with their stuff, at least for a while. Obviously, I have no intention of hurting you, whatever you might think, and you haven't really tried with me, so we're good, right?"

When Wes didn't answer, Fenton added, "What, you don't think I want to kill you or something because you think I'm Phantom, right? Right?" Fenton stared at him. "Seriously? Is that why you just started avoiding me? Because you thought I wanted you dead or something? Geez, I'm surprised you didn't try to return the favour."

"You can't kill someone who's already dead."

Fenton rolled his eyes. "You know what? Fine. Suit yourself. I can't make you not believe your own crazy conspiracy theory, but if it makes you feel better, I promise I'm not here to ruin your life or attack your family or do any other horrific thing you might be thinking. I'm just trying to do my own thing like everyone else. So, have a good rest of your life."

Don't be surprised if I haunt you. Wes was waiting for him to say it, to complete the echo of the conversation they'd had years before, but he didn't. He simply turned and started to walk towards his friends, his soft footsteps on the linoleum sounding loud to Wes's ears.

"Hey, wait, I'm not done!" Wes yelled, finding his voice and his feet at the same time. He sprinted after Fenton, easily catching up to him, and reached to grab his arm.

Wes watched his fingers pass right through Fenton's arm and backpack as Fenton reached Manson and Foley. Wes stared at his hand for a split second and then looked up to confront them with this obvious bit of proof, but the hallway was empty.

He couldn't hear any footsteps leading away, nor any muffled laughter at his expense.

He could hear some coming towards him, and he tensed, surprised Fenton would return so soon—

—and then Kyle walked back around the corner. "Hey, that was Dad. He's working late tonight so we get to grab something from the Nasty Burger for supper." He glanced around. "You straighten things out with Danny? You guys good now?" He seemed to take Wes's silence for the affirmative, maybe because Wes had always been so vocal about the negative before, and started to ramble on about the grad parties and everything else. Wes stopped paying attention.

Kyle made it very clear that Wes couldn't win this. No one else was going to look at Fenton and see what Wes saw. Wes wasn't going to be able to change that.

Aside from Kyle, Wes stood in the hallway entirely by himself. Fenton, Foley, and Manson were gone. Their disappearance had been fast and thorough, and Kyle didn't think it was weird that he hadn't seen or heard them go. If the past was anything to go by, he wouldn't necessarily believe Wes when he insisted they hadn't gone past him, either, not when those two directions had been the only obvious choices.

Not that the obvious choices mattered to a ghost—or whatever Fenton was—when he could go through walls and bring his friends with him.

In the end, despite how close Wes had been to getting some solid evidence, to convincing Kyle of the truth, he was left with exactly as much concrete proof of the truth as he'd ever had.

Nothing.