The chilly wind slapped his cheeks, bringing out a rosy colour, making him feel more alive than he had all week. Looking up at the sky, he was disappointed to find a thick cover of gloomy clouds, not a single star in the sky. Perfect, he thought cynically.

His stomach was in knots, he was dreading going back to school tomorrow. His Aunt and Uncle had been understanding but they could only deal with his fake flu for so long. The thought of spending six straight hours pretending everything had not been ripped out from under him was overwhelming. In his state, he would probably breakdown crying in second period.

Reaching the park, Buster walked down the familiar path straight to the playground. He had half expected his ghost friend to drop by his house over the last week to check on him but was grateful that Phantom kept his distance. However, Buster had been ignoring all his friends and he felt a little lonely. Phantom was the only one who knew what was really going on, the only one he didn't have to pretend around.

Picking up a stick, he sat himself down on the wooden ledge of the sand surrounding the swings to wait and began tracing nonsense patterns. The ominous howling of the wind was strangely calming. The night was void of any other sounds. Loosing himself to the thoughtless silence, Buster finally allowed a small smile to grace his face.

A sudden uproar of sound from behind frightened him out of the false calm. A long and loud cracking of a tree branch followed by a muffled thump and crash. Realizing that something had fallen out of the tree, he ran towards it. A spike of adrenaline coursed through his veins, his blood rushing loudly in his ears.

As he approached, he could make out the shape of a tennis shoe laying in the grass not far from the fallen entity. 'A person?!' he panicked and picked up his speed.

Finally getting close enough to see any distinguishing features, Buster stopped in his tracks. His hand went flying to his mouth in shock. "Danny!"

The boy looked dreadful, Buster couldn't tell if he was even breathing. 'No, No, No, No, No. He has to be alive', Buster repeated to himself as he stared at the unmoving chest. His eyes were shut, mouth slightly hung agape, limbs laying haphazardly. He didn't look alive.

In a heart stopping moment, Danny's eyes fluttered open, peculiarly alert as he quickly took in his surroundings. Buster took a small impulsive step back.

"…Buster?" At the sound of his name, Buster crossed the remaining distance between them.

"What in the world were you doing in the tree?" he questioned in an odd sense of relief as he carefully knelt down beside him. He took in the state of his friend, eyes going wide. "Oh my god. You're bleeding."

Danny looked alarmed, "what?" then, as if remembering something he dropped his head back onto the ground, "no, I'm fine."

Buster gawked at his absurdity for a split-second before pulling out his phone. "I'm calling an ambulance."

Turning his head to face him, eyebrows furrowed. "No, Buster don't," Danny gritted stubbornly.

"You're bleeding Danny! A lot! Why shouldn't I?" His mind spun, it looked really bad. Danny was having trouble breathing. He probably hit his head too hard, Buster shouldn't listen to him.

"Because…I don't want you to," he bit out with a grimace as he used too much force in his words.

"You'll die! How are you so hurt by just falling out of a tree?" There was a growing spot of blood on his torso and shoulder, it was pretty dark out but he could make out several bruises and cuts littering his arms and face.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Danny whispered as he let his eyes close.

"I'm calling 911, you can't stop me. I'm not going to let you die," Danny was being crazy. He couldn't just but a band aid on it and make this better. He wasn't going to lose someone else he cared about for something as stupid as pride.

"Please. Just listen," Danny groaned, eyes still shut in pain.

Buster's fingers hovered over the call button, "What?"

"I… I need to hide. It's not safe. I can't go to a hospital."

Buster's heart leapt into his throat as the implications of Danny's words struck. The injuries were not from merely falling out of a tree. Danny was in trouble. Something was terribly wrong. "Why."

Danny let out a strangled breath, "I did something."

An awful taste formed in his mouth as he thought back to all the rumors surrounding his friend. "Promise me it was nothing illegal."

Danny was quiet for a moment, opening his glazed eyes he looked at him, "…I can't do that."

Buster's eyes prickled, the doubt he had about the boy rushed forward from the back of his mind. He couldn't look at him in the eyes, shifting his gaze downward. "Danny, it's getting worse!" he screamed as the spot of blood grew uncontrollably. He pulled off his scarf and placed it against the wound to apply pressure, "were you stabbed?!"

"Do you want to help?" Danny asked, avoiding the question.

With an exasperated look Buster shook his head, "Of course. What do you think I'm trying to do?" Buster may not agree with Danny's life choices but he was still his friend. A friend who might die tonight if he didn't help him.

Smiling at him through the pain, "Then pull out my phone, it's in my back pocket."

Buster nodded, he bent around the boy while attempting to keep an even pressure on his wound. "What do you want me to do?"

Danny took a few moments to collect his breath, eyes closed. "The first three contacts…send them a mass text."

Buster selected the contacts, "What do you want me to say?"

"Type a capital c, space, a capital y then an a" Danny instructed quietly. Buster followed as he spoke and stared at the message. It was completely ordinary, but Danny was strangely specific.

"C Ya? To Sam, Tucker and your sister? Danny what's going on?" The ball of dread in the pit of his stomach grew.

"It's a code, did it send?" Danny replied dismissively, his voice sounding urgent.

"Yeah."

Grunting in approval, Danny motioned his head towards the bushes, "throw it away."

Hesitating, Buster looked nervously as the boy's pained features. "Danny, what did you do?" His voice sounded small. He was terrified, what had he gotten himself into? Danny wasn't just hiding, he was trying to disappear.

"You don't have to help me," he whispered sadly.

Buster watched the sadness in his eyes, a look so incredibly innocent that he really couldn't blame himself for not buying in to the rumors. When he got to the root of it, Danny Fenton was still a nice guy. He took a deep breath and chucked the phone as far away as possible. Danny smiled at him, he attempted to return the favour but it faltered as he felt something wet and warm against his fingers. Looking down, he noticed the scarf was soaking through. "You're losing a lot of blood, you at least need first aid. We need to get moving."

Instantly getting to work he lifted the scarf off only to securely wrap the blood-soaked item around Danny's torso. Tying it as tightly as possible without hurting the guy, he helped him into a sitting position. Danny's breathing became increasingly laboured, hitching as he tried to stand up. "I can't walk, my knee." Looking down, Buster noticed another gushing wound soaking the boy's jeans.

Trying to keep himself from panicking at the sheer amount of blood loss, "here," he offered his support as he lifted Danny to his feet, leaning him up against Buster's weak frame. "Where are we supposed to go?" he asked once they were relatively steady, trying to ignore the warmth of the blood against his skin.

"I'll give you directions…try to stay hidden. We need to get there fast. I don't think I can stay conscious for long."

Taking the first few careful steps, "Just do me a favour and stay alive."

Danny snorted despite the grave circumstance, gripping him tighter in attempted reassurance, "I will."

Everything hurt, but it was nothing new. He lifted his lidded eyes as he glanced at the shadow covered street signs, they were almost there. His body felt sickly warm, the coldness of the outside air was doing nothing to comfort him. Sweat trickled down his neck. Making the effort to look sideways at his rescuer, Danny smiled sadly. He wished Buster had never shown up, this was too much for him.

He was glad most of Amity slept at night, minimal witnesses were essential if his plan was going to work. Buster stopped his walking, indicating that Danny was to give further instructions. Opening his eyes, he glanced around and pointed in the right direction. They had resolved on not talking to save his energy and keep them discreet.

Danny was trying his best to not slip into a pain-induced coma. Just because he was used to it didn't mean it wasn't agonizing. The bleeding should have slowed down by now, he was sure of it. He hadn't bled out this much, ever. His healing powers usually kicked in and stopped the gushing, there was something wrong. However, Danny couldn't focus on that right now. He needed to remember the directions.

About ten minutes later, he found the pair of them standing below a small looming porch. They were here. Buster adjusted his grip, grunting, he lifted him onto the stairs. A few struggling steps later, he heard the sound of a distant doorbell from within the house followed by soft footsteps.

The door screeched open, stopping as the chained lock restricted its movement. "Fenton? Buster? What are you doing here?" A shrill voice rang in his ears.

It hurt his head; yet, he couldn't help but smile. "Hey buddy, you up for a slumber party?"

Opening his eyes, he took in the confused and angry expression behind the wooden door. "Why the hell would I be…" the boy began to shout, trailing off as he noticed their state, "whoa you're bleeding out."

Getting impatient, Buster intervened. "Wes can we please come in, he won't let me take him anywhere else. It's been too long, I don't even understand how he's still awake." His voice was shaking, he was scared. Danny hated this, the kid was still recovering from last week's trauma and Danny had to go and scar him for life once again.

The ginger's eyes were blown wide in shock but he quickly recovered. Narrowing them into slits, he was quiet for a few moments. Assessing his options, "Fine." Danny was genuinely surprised that he had so easily given in. He must have been in worse shape than he thought.

Wes unlocked the door, opening it all the way, he stepped out and helped Buster support Danny's weight as they walked into the living room. Danny let out a breath of relief once he was finally off his feet, wincing as his shoulder touched the back of the couch. "Sorry about the couch," he said as he noticed the red seep through the rough fabric.

"You better be," Wes grumbled as he walked swiftly down the hall.

Buster knelt down on the ground next to him, holding his uninjured hand in a death grip. Almost as if making sure Danny was still there. Upon hearing hurried steps returning, "Your dad home?" he called out worriedly. He hadn't thought about that when he first got here.

Putting down a first-aid kit on the coffee table, Wes shook his head, "No, he's out all week."

Relaxing, Danny leaned his head further into the cushioned backrest, "Great."

"You are not staying for that long," the ginger grumbled as he rummaged through the worn out tin and pulled out some disinfectant and bandages.

Danny grinned, "Hey, I'm not planning on it."

Grunting in response, Wes got up and returned with a wet washcloth. "Buster take off his shirt."

Untying the scarf, Buster helped Danny remove the no-longer white garment. Danny held his breath as he did so, they weren't really aware at the extent of his injuries.

"Jeez Fenton, what the hell happened?" Wes grimaced as he laid eyes on his blood soaked body. Throwing the washcloth at Buster he returned to the first-aid kit and pulled out a needle and thread as Buster cleaned the wound.

With a wavering hand, Wes began stitching up his slashed stomach, occasionally gagging. Danny could have done it himself, but his arm hurt too much. He avoided looking at Buster who sat with one hand covering his mouth in horror.

Wrapping the bandages, Wes reluctantly moved on to his upper wound. "Shit!" he cried out as he backed away running to empty out the contents of his stomach in the garbage can. "There's a bullet lodged in your shoulder…I didn't sign up for this."

Buster's eyes went wide but he didn't say anything. Probably too shocked to speak. Danny felt horrible, he should have just made Buster leave him at the park. He could have fixed this himself, somehow. "Just give me some tweezers. I'll pull them out myself," he requested quietly.

Looking up, horror engraved onto his face, "them?" Buster croaked.

Danny licked his dry lips, pushing himself to sit up straighter and trying to ignore the stabs of excruciating pain. "There's one in my knee as well."

Buster stood up and sat down on the coffee table right in front of him. He gently lifted his stained leg and rested it on his lap. Rolling up the jean leg, he gasped at the gory sight. "Explain. Now."

Danny turned his head away, "I can't. The less you know the better."

Buster gave him a hardened look but Danny didn't waver. Wes returned, holding a pair of tweezers and quietly got back to work. About twenty minutes later, Danny was all patched up, leaning back on the couch wondering why his wounds were not healing. He felt extremely drowsy, his head swam but he couldn't pass out just yet.

"Go home, pretend you never saw me. Don't tell anyone. Not even Sam and Tucker." He instructed the boy still seated on the table across from him.

Buster furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms defiantly, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes you are," he gritted firmly.

Buster shook his head, "No I'm not."

Danny sighed and closed his eyes in frustration. He really wanted to sleep.

"Dude, you kinda need to be welcome here to stay. Spoiler alert, you're not welcome," Wes intervened in a strange attempt to help.

Danny allowed a small smile to stretch across his face at the ginger's effort.

"Imagine what would happen in the morning. If we both end up MIA, everyone would freak out and this will become way bigger than it already is," he explained, hoping that Buster would understand. The situation was serious, he couldn't afford to be found before he carried out his admittedly hole-ridden plan.

"…Fine. But I'll be back tomorrow," he stated stubbornly after a few moments of contemplation.

"Buster don't…" he started, It would be too suspicious. He couldn't make mistakes like that.

Buster held up his hand, "Danny stop." His tone held such finality that Danny took a moment to think. He regarded the boy, a wave of guilt washed over him as he saw the deep bags under his eyes.

"Just be careful," he relented.

"Just stay alive," Buster countered, eyes hard as steel.

Interrupting the intense moment, Wes snorted. "That's a pretty tall order…"

Danny rolled his eyes, "I will, now go home."

Buster pushed himself off the table, gave him a small look and finally turned to walk towards the door.

"Wait," Wes called out to stop him.

Raising a questioning brow as he turned back around, "what?"

"You're covered in blood."

Waving at Buster as he walked out the door dressed in Wes' old clothes, Danny let out a sigh. He had really messed up. Getting brutally injured and turning human mid-flight was not in the plan. At least he had lost his pursuers before the fact, he thought, trying to console himself. He winced as he adjusted himself on the couch into a more comfortable position. The pressure on his stomach was overwhelming.

He looked curiously at the ginger as he sat down on the sofa across from him, "So what have you done with Wes?" he said teasingly although he was genuinely curious.

"What are you blabbing about?" Wes muttered, eyes narrowed into slits.

"I thought you'd put up a better fight…much less help stitch me up. And you passed up the perfect opportunity," Danny clarified, watching him with lidded drowsy eyes.

"To out you?"

Nodding the best that he could, "yeah."

Wes leaned back, swiping his hand dismissively in the air. "Nah, I decided I'm done with shouting out the obvious."

Danny raised up an eyebrow, "…That's unexpected." He had hit head pretty hard on the way down, he was probably hallucinating. Never in a million years had he thought Wes Weston would give up and help him.

"I'm going to help them figure it out themselves. You, my dear Phantom, have walked right into a trap."

At that, Danny found himself feeling relieved. He broke out into a giggle, "ah, that makes more sense. How could I have been so foolish?"

Wes just rolled his eyes, he looked pretty serious though. If Wes was going to point someone into figuring out his secret, Buster was probably his best bet. The kid was pretty open to crazy ideas.

"So…what did you do?" he asked him after a few moments of awkward silence. Danny sighed, He was really tired, but he guessed he owed him some sort of explanation.

"Stole something," he admitted vaguely.

Wes placed a hand against his chest in fake shock. "The great saviour of our town, a thief? Didn't see that coming," he said sarcastically.

Smiling at his antics, Danny shook his head sluggishly. "Nothing valuable…just incriminating evidence against the villain."

Wes snorted, pulling his feet up onto the sofa. "Don't need to keep up the innocent act here Fenton. I can see right through you."

This was true, he was probably the only one who could read him like an open book. Danny respected him for that. "My apologies."

"Why'd you come here anyway? Don't you have your own house? Friends?" he interrogated, understandably so.

"That's the point…they aren't only looking for Phantom. Home would be the first place they'd look, my friends would obviously be next. No one knows what great friends we are, not even Sam and Tuck, so I'm safe here."

Wes raised his eyebrows at the new information, seemingly surprised that Danny would get into trouble as Fenton. "We aren't friends," he pointed out sternly as an afterthought.

"Whatever you say man."

He rolled his eyes, "how long am I supposed to play host?"

Danny rubbed at his own droopy eyes, he could tell he was getting on Wes's nerves. "I…I'm hoping I can hide out for a couple days…maybe three?" he said hopefully, feeling apologetic for barging in on the boy so unexpectedly.

Getting to his feet, Wes stared long and hard at him, "I'm going to hold you to that."

"Don't worry, I do have a plan." he reassured with a tired smirk, silently hoping that he hadn't messed the said plan up too badly.

Wes nodded grudgingly as he turned away, "hmph, you owe me."

Watching his retreating form Danny bit his lip. He truly hated being such a burden. "Thanks Wes, I really appreciate it."

"Yeah well, don't make this a habit. I don't know what got into me," he mumbled as he walked upstairs. When he returned he was holding a pillow and blanket.

"Where do I sleep?" Danny asked, his words slurring together in exhaustion.

"Down here, you already ruined the couch…might as well get comfortable. I'm not okay with sleeping in the same room with you. I don't care how crippled you are," Wes said as he helped him lay down on his back then moved to flick off the light.

Danny snickered, feeling a little delirious. His eyes instantly shut as his head hit the pillow. "You suck at slumber parties."