Author's Note

I'm just flying with updates this week! I feel so accomplished! So, this chapter is a little more explicative than the ones before it. Remember when I asked about the different types of ghosts in an A/N a few chapters back? Well, that gets pretty much all sorted out here.

Please drop a review! Comments, questions, concerns? I'd love to hear it.

Chapter Six
No Downside to Knowledge

"Oh, very good," interrupted Snape, his lip curling. "Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. 'Ghosts are transparent."

J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

This wasn't what he had wanted.

Diving into the new world of apparitions and spectral mist was supposed to reveal the darkness in the world around him, unveil the mysteries of the shadows dancing across his walls when there were no light to cast them. Expose the secrets and banish the fear, wash away the chills that ran up his arms, drown out the screams that filled the cold night air.

But it didn't.

The connotation changed, it carried a brand new weight. The shadows laughed manically, sneering and caterwauling. The empty room warped and strained, bending as the mind closed down with all consuming fear, with the realization that the darkness was tangible and deadly. An unseen fiend that bore into human minds, that twisted thought, whispered lies. The mystery had deepened. The veil pushed back only revealed the depth of his ignorance, unmasked the extent of what was hiding. There were no simple answers, no comforting thoughts.

There was only truth.

Ashes to Ashes

"Maybe we should get out while we still can," Tucker suggested weakly, his pale green eyes now eyeing the aged leather book as though it were likely to kill them all. "I-I mean, this is obviously a lot darker than we were thinking so…"

"It's too late, Tuck." Danny clenched his fist and stood. There was no backing down from this anymore. He couldn't go back to his state of unbelief and he wouldn't want to. He had always known that his parents thought ghosts were dangerous, that they were vicious and violent but he'd never quite understood what they meant. Why they meant that. Now he truly realized that they were protecting him and the town.

Sam got to her feet as well. "There's no turning back now," she said flashing a smile toward him. "Honestly, I'm tired of being safe. It's too boring."

"And I can't go back," Danny said, just the mere memory of his previous state of mind filling him with despair. "I can't give this up, not now that I know."

Tucker's gaze flickered from him to Sam, his face pale but resigned. He sighed and then stood, a nervous smile gracing his face. "I don't know if I'm ever going to sleep again."

Danny laughed. "Then we'll be sleep deprived together." He stuck out his hand. Sam put hers on top of his and, albeit with an eye roll, Tucker put his in too.

"We're not going to have to yell something cheesy, right? I don't fancy shouting Ghostfacers or something equally dumb."

And like that the circle fell apart as laughter took them back to the ground. After a few minutes, during which they composed themselves, Danny looked back at the book. "We should probably keep reading. Now that I know how dark this might get, I want to be fully prepared."

Sam grinned. "Sounds good to me." She reopened the volume, flipping through the pages. "There is more than just ghosts in here too. They have explanations for a variety of paranormal creatures."

"Please tell me vampires aren't part of that."

"No, it seems to stay within the realm of creatures found in the Ghost Zone." She paused, the corner of her lips turning down. "It's all the different types of ghosts, and then halfway through it switches to demonology."

"It probably would, if ectoplasm is demonic and that's what ghosts are made of."

"Hm… by the way, Danny are you sure this book is authentic?" She looked up at him. "Cause if it's not—"

"I'm pretty sure it's legit," Danny said paling slightly. He was also fairly sure that the ghost from downstairs had put it on his shelf. He deliberated for a moment, wondering whether or not to share this insight with them. It didn't take long for him to decide – he shared everything with them after all. "After all, I've never seen it before."

"What?" Tucker blanched. "But… I thought it was yours."

"It's not. I just found it sitting there, never seen it before. Pretty sure it's not my mom's either. She doesn't leave books lying around in any case." He shivered, rubbing his arms. "Crap, why is it so cold in here?"

"Dude, its your house."

"Yeah, I know but—" He glanced at the book again. "Ever since I picked up that thing I feel like the temperature dropped ten degrees."

"Maybe she left it."

"What?" Danny looked at Tucker. "Who left it?"

"The ghost." He grinned. "I think you're being haunted Danny."

"I—" Danny spluttered for a moment. Haunted? "Why—what makes you say that?"

"Well, I'm not cold." Tucker's grin widened. "And, she was probably in the basement when we were there, but she waited until we were gone to do anything. She's coming after you Danny."

"Why is that a good thing!" Danny said, wondering why he looked so happy. He wouldn't be this happy if it was him, Danny thought sourly. He had never been so scared in his life. Sure, it had also been the coolest thing ever to happen in his short fourteen years, but terrifying at the same time. What if she had been malevolent? What if she was? Just because she hadn't done anything yet didn't mean she wouldn't.

"You're finally being chased by a girl!"

"Tuck!"

"Stop freaking him out," Sam said, though there was a ghost of a smile about her mouth. "Maybe she wants you to learn about ghosts."

Danny blinked. "Why?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "They believe in you?" His mother's words rang in the room, descending upon them softly. Danny whitened as he remembered what the ghost had said to him, just before he'd bolted out of the room.

"Did you forget mummy's words?"

"But," Danny said, his brows furrowing together. Why would she want him to believe in them? It didn't really make sense to him. And why him in particular? He wasn't anyone special; he was just another high school student. There were probably tons of teens just like him out in the world, so why was it so important that he believed?

Oh.

His parents. Not everyone had ghost hunters for parents. Parents that knew more than they let on about the shadows of the world, who sought to protect others regardless of what happened to their reputation. Not everyone had been exposed to ectoplasm since they could crawl. Ectoplasm. A substance of demonic origin. Was that why? He'd been hospitalized after swallowing some of it before, and been covered in it more times than he could count. Hell, he'd nearly eaten it for breakfast the first day of school. Was that why?

"Ug!" Danny stood up again, pacing the length of his room. "That doesn't make sense! Why would they want me to believe in them? Having ghost hunters for parents should make them want to keep me in the dark, surely? They wouldn't want to risk me growing up to be like them, shooting at them every chance I get."

"Danny, I don't know why." Sam swallowed. "But apparently, they wanted you to believe in them. And, they want you to know about them too. We aren't going to find anything out just sitting here, mulling it over."

"What, so you think we should keep doing what she—they want?"

"Well, I don't see a downside to learning other than knowledge."

Danny nodded, coming to a stop. She was right – she usually was. He was freezing now, but his chest felt warm. He felt pushed to learn more, but doing so felt right. It confused him, made hundreds of unanswerable questions rise to the surface of his mind. But as Sam had said, they weren't going to discover anything if they just thought about it. A resolution forming in his mind, he nodded and turned back to her.

"Start reading, Sam."

It wasn't a command and she didn't take it as one. It was the acknowledgement that this was all they could do, and they might as well do it. With a clear of her throat, Sam bent over the first page.

A ghost is the soul of a human or an animal that is trapped in the Ghost Zone. The reason for this varies widely, depending on the soul in question and the manner of their death. However, they all have on thing in common.

They are not complete.

This is most obvious in cases concerning vengeful spirits. Having died in particularly violent ways, they are imprinted with the horror of what happened before they passed. They refuse to accept their fate, the fact that their life had been taken from them. They feel as if they need to stay, that they can't leave just yet, whether they wish to extract vengeance on the one who wronged them, protect another, or torment others to their level of misery. They are damaged and wallow in their agony and inability to move-on to the Spirit World– which is called by several different names depending upon the era and religion.

As these damaged spirits travel through the Ghost Zone – which is on the path to the Spirit World – they are intercepted by an organism known as ectoplasm. Ectoplasm is energy with a life of its own; however, it requires the mind in order to organize and become used. It is the substance that allows the consciousness of those dead to materialize and take shape. Demonic in nature, it can either take over the mind of the soul or it can be harnessed and used. Much like chemicals bonding, those souls that are damaged, or being held back to something are more likely to allow the energy to come into them, and give them purpose. This is why a ghost can be exorcised, for after the demonic energy is removed, they become nothing more than wisps of human consciousness. Sometimes they are then able to move on, and other times they just return to the zone to begin the process once again.

Their usual place of residence is within the Ghost Zone, a parallel universe to the waking world. This zone cannot be reached in any one place, because it expands over everywhere. It is not our world, it exists next it possessing no similarities save that it is a veil that our dead pass through on the journey onward. It is the demon's domain and home, their final attempt to catch the human race in their snare.

Danny closed his eyes as the words washed over him, as the explanations made themselves clear in his mind. A chill ran down his arms as Sam finished the paragraph and he grabbed a blanket from off his bed, wrapping it around his shoulders. The more he heard, the deeper they got themselves into this mess, the more chilled he became.

Then a waft of air passed over the back of his neck, a voice of melody and horror in his ear.

"Enjoying your present?"

He couldn't speak. It was as though his vocal cords had frozen and he was struck with a sudden image of her holding her hand over his mouth. He looked over at Tucker and Sam, wondering how to get their attention. Sam was still reading, but he couldn't focus on the words in his haze of panic.

"Hush," she continued and he could hear the smile that he could not see. "Don't let them know I'm here." There was a warning in her voice, honey sweet but there non-the-less. He looked away from his friends quickly, back to the spot on the floor that he had been staring at while Sam's words washed over him. She chuckled, a soft chiming sound, like glass bells.

"Good boy, Daniel."

How did she know his name? Where ghosts omniscient?

"Funny, but no," she breathed in his ear. "I possess limited telepathy. You'll read about it soon so I won't explain." Her tone switched abruptly, suddenly becoming much more business-like and serious. "I am here in regards to a complication—" She paused a moment. Something was wrong Danny could sense it. He didn't know how, but it was as though he could feel her tensing. "Listen, Danny," she said faster now, hurried. "Don't get caught alone at school."

"What?"

Urgently. "Wherever you go, stay with your friends. Don't get caught alone. Don't be alone."

"What're you—"

He was dimly aware that Sam had stopped reading, that she and Tucker was staring at him open mouthed. And then he felt the cold leave him, as though it been blown away. Not three seconds later the door to his bedroom was thrown wide, his mother flipping inside, the ecto-blaster balanced on her shoulder.

"Get away from my son!" she shrieked cocking the weapon. Danny stared dumbfounded at her, fully realizing for the first time why she was so protective. Ghosts were lesser demons and while not all of them succumbed to the ectoplasm that gave them form, most did. He didn't have much time to ponder though, because his mother had just shouted something at him, followed by someone grabbing his arm and jerking him out of the way of a vibrant green blast. He looked up, meeting Sam's pale face.

His mother swore before dropping the gun and rushing over to him. "Are you all right?" she asked, taking his face in her hands, then on his shoulders. "Did it do anything?"

"Mom I'm fine, I—"

"Sweetie, I know you don't believe," his mother caught him off, wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug. Danny felt his heart ache. He could tell her right now, tell her that he did believe, that the ghost had talked to him. But he couldn't. Not yet, she couldn't know yet.

"Geeze mom," he said breaking the hug. "You nearly gave me a heart-attack." He paused, thinking of how to get information without making her suspicious. "Why did you even think there was something up here?" he asked, trying to sound slightly annoyed.

"You wouldn't understand," his mother said sadly. From beside him, Sam cleared her throat, looking nearly as shocked by the whole incident as Danny felt.

"Try us."

Danny glanced at her, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smile. She knew what he was doing. She looked half ready to tell his mother everything though, but she steeled herself and for that he was grateful. Maddie appraised Sam for a moment before saying slowly, and in what seemed to be the simplest terms she could find, "I've been working on an ectoplasmic detection device. It reads the changes in air temperature and density, assessing the probability of an entity occupying space, but not matter."

"That sounds… complicated," Tucker said.

"But why would it say there was something up here? In particular?" Danny asked now even more confused.

"It keys into ecto-signatures," His mother went on. "It's calibrated to ignore matter—don't say it's impossible," she said sharply when Sam opened her mouth. Sam frowned but closed it again. "It sends out waves derived from an ectoplasm base and when it hits something that contains ectoplasmic particles the wave bounces back, indicating where it is. It's based on sonar. Anyway, I was testing it, pointing it first to some ectoplasm in jars and then to different areas of the house. The strength of the signal indicates whether the ectoplasm has organized." She waved her hand away as though this information wasn't very interesting – even though Danny found himself hanging on every word – and continued, "When I pointed it at your room…" she trailed off pointedly and Danny nodded.

"Right."

His mother sighed and hoisted the weapon on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I might've over-reacted. It's still in the testing stages. Didn't mean to scare you guys."

Danny opened his mouth, wanting to say some scathing remark about how he didn't believe, but he couldn't do it. Sam seemed to see his struggle because she suddenly said, "But ghosts don't exist anyways."

Danny hated to see the look of hurt on her face. "Yes well…" she trailed off awkwardly. "You guys have fun."

And she left, closing the door behind her.

Within a second, Sam and Tucker had rounded on Danny, their eyes wide and excited. He didn't have to be a genius to know what they were going to ask him. He scratched the back of his head, remembering the feel of her breath brushing against his skin. She'd been right next to him, could've been touching him for all he knew.

"So?" Tucker prompted when he didn't say anything. "What did she say? We heard you say 'what're you—' before your mom barged in." He paused. "By the way, she's amazing."

Danny grinned. "I know."

"I'm not covering up for you next time," Sam shot, folding her arms. "I don't like lying to adults."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Sam! That's not important!" Tucker said. "C'mon tell us."

"She asked if we liked her present," he said.

"Told you."

"Yeah, you're a genius," Danny rolled his eyes. "She could read my mind too! Said that we'd be reading about that soon." Then he paused, remembering the final piece of their conversation and the smile slid off his face.

"What else did she say?" Sam asked slowly, seeing the look on his face.

"She told me not get caught alone in the school. Wherever I go, stay with my friends. Don't get caught alone. Don't be alone."

Ashes to Ashes

While the Ghost Zone cannot be accessed by any single gate or way of entry, there are certain hot spots that appear throughout the world, allowing entry into its realm. One famous area is the Devils Triangle – also known as the Bermuda Triangle – where many have been known to disappear. The reason for this is unknown; some theorizing that the magnetism of the earth's gravitation field plays a part, while others say it is the work of random scattering. In any case, they are spots that allow for beings within the ghost zone to past through into the material world.

Not all ghosts can survive the passage through. A certain degree of energy is required for a ghost to make it thorough these holes in the Ghost Zone. A ghost's energy depends upon their ability to convert ectoplasm into energy – an unconscious process – and the strength of their consciousness. The weakest ghosts are forced to reside in the zone unless they were formed within the material world itself – a situation wherein their soul ran into ectoplasm before reaching the zone – and in which case they will remain on the plane they were created, unless they are sent to the ghost zone forcibly. These weak ghosts rely heavily on mediums and artifacts in order to finish their work.

Other ghosts can pass through these holes, but take up so much energy that they lose the ability to become tangible. They are unseen except by those who have received the Diabolical Stigma.

Danny paused, flicking his flashlight off as he heard footsteps pass by his door. The clock on his bedside table told him that it was very late, and he knew that he was going to be dead in school the next day, but he couldn't stop reading. He wanted, needed to know more.

Sam and Tucker had left for home not long after the incident with his mother. Homework and their own parent's calling them for dinner. Sam had wanted to take the book with her, but Tucker had shot that down, saying that the ghost had given it to Danny and might not like it if Sam took it. Danny grinned in the dark, the worn pages beneath his fingers. She was going to be so mad when she found out that he was reading ahead. That was usually her job.

After remaining frozen for a second longer, the footsteps disappearing back toward his parent's bedroom – probably his dad going for a midnight snack or bathroom visit – he clicked the light back on, leaning back over the page.

It was incredibly fascinating, more so than he remembered as a child. And, if the incident from before was anything to go by, his mother already knew most of this information. Where had she learned it? It had probably been more difficult for her than him, what without the Internet at her fingertips. She must've read book after book, trying to find some valid information.

But she seemed to have found it.

Danny smiled to himself, grateful – for once in his life – that his parents were ghost hunters. Sure, it was embarrassing and annoying at times, but it was honestly the coolest thing ever. And, he had never felt so safe in his home before. He chuckled, wondering idly if Sam and Tucker were getting any sleep tonight. He wasn't, but that was merely because he was so enthralled in this book.

He glanced at the bottom of the page when a definition of what a Diabolical Stigma was didn't follow the term. There in the footnotes it referenced him to a page in the demon section of the text. After flipping through the pages he found it, keeping a thumb to mark his spot.

The Diabolical Stigma is the process by which one undergoes in order to see demons that do not possess the necessary power to make themselves visible to human eyes. In order to obtain it, one must receive an injury or illness from a demon. This allows the human mind to calibrate itself to the entities, peeling back the veil and giving the ability to see what was previously invisible.

Did that mean his parent's had been encountered a demon then? Could they actually see them, when the rest of the world couldn't? He'd never really thought about it. He wanted to ask them now, but that would force him to tell them he'd actually become interested in the subject. He sighed, turning back to his original page. He was really going to have to tell them sometime soon. It was starting to become more troublesome for him to keep it quiet, after all, it would be so much easier to just ask his mother all his questions instead of sneaking around, looking for answers.

Other ghosts—

He read

—can materialize in the physical world to varying degrees. It always takes more energy for a ghost to be tangible and seen, than for them to reside in their natural state – which can only be seen by those with the Diabolical Stigma. However, all ghosts possess the ability to completely obscure themselves, even from those with the stigma with relatively little difficulty.

All ghosts have an array of standard abilities, the power and extent of which vary upon the specter in question. While not all may have the energy to become tangible, all can become intangible, invisible to even those with stigma, fly, possess another's body, and change the shape of their body for short periods of time.

What has been discussed above primarily are semi-powerful to weak ghosts that were previously a human or animal on earth, with a life span of less than one hundred years. These are the most common type ghost and the least troublesome. There are several other types of ghosts, some that were not human or animal previously and others who have special abilities aside from the standard list. Some ghosts that fall under this category are poltergeists, phantoms, shades, demonic spirits, ghosts older than two hundred years and gásts.

A gást isn't a human attempting to move on, or a demon from below. They are the original ghosts, the entity that has always existed within the Ghost Zone. They are relatives to ectoplasm, being entirely composed of the material with no other contributing factors. Some believe that they were once ectoplasm but over time amassed enough spectral energy to become their own unique creature with their own specific ability; a process similar to that of evolution. The specifics of their species can be read on page—

Knock. "Danny?"

Danny jumped and slammed the book shut, shoving it under his pillow as his door was pushed open. He looked up, surprised to see not his mother, but his sister. Jazz stood suspended in the doorway for a moment, her hand wringing the fringe of her nightshirt with something akin to nervousness. Danny stared at her, taken aback by her presence.

"Yeah?" Danny glanced at the clock on his beside table. "It's almost two, Jazz."

"Yeah, I know. I saw a flicker of light under your door or I might've—" she trailed off awkwardly. Danny couldn't see her expression in the dim, but he recognized that something was bothering her.

"It's okay," he said. "What is it?"

They hadn't really talked at all since that incident in the lab, the first day of school. He dimly remembered his mother telling him that Jazz was upset over what he'd said, but apparently a lot more than she'd let on. Jazz walked over to him, taking a seat on his bed next to him, her gaze trained on the floor.

They used to talk all the time, he and her. Not so much now, but they used to stay up until the early hours of the morning, just talking about anything that came to mind. He would tell her the events of the day, his worries, his fears and she'd tell him hers. But then he became a teenager and the need to have secrets and an overbearing sister stopped the conversations. He missed those times a little, back when he could tolerate all the psychobabble she spouted.

"I know that sometimes you hate it when I but in," she started softly, in her midnight whisper. "And I don't mean to. Sometimes I get so into my psychology that I don't—"

"Jazz, it's okay," Danny broke in, staring at her. She was apologizing to him? "It's my fault, I over-reacted a bit."

"But I should've realized that I was just being a bother."

"Yeah, a little bit of a bother."

"Thanks…"

"But you're my older sister. You're supposed to be a bother every now and then," he grinned. "Otherwise I'd never get the stereotypical teenage experience."

Jazz looked up at him, a brow raised. "Have you been reading my books?"

"I might've browsed through them on occasion. Looking for the 'mentality of a bully' section."

Jazz laughed. "Right. Are you okay, by the way? I heard at school that Dash hit you, but mom said—"

"I lied to her," Danny said with a frown. "I didn't want her to worry."

"But Danny! You can't just let him get away with it."

For once, he wasn't bothered by her concern. In fact, he appreciated it. "I know, but it's not that big of a deal. I mean, I've been bullied before."

"Not like that!"

"Yeah I know, but it was bound to happen anyway. And if I drag mom and dad into it I'll just turn into even more of a wimp." He grimaced. "I have my pride after all."

"Even if you're bleeding all over the place?"

"It's a guy thing. I thought you were the psychologist." He nudged her playfully with his arm. At her still worried expression he added, "If it gets too bad, I promise I'll reach out for help, okay? I won't kill myself."

Jazz looked at him. "I'm not sure whether or not I'm comforted by that…"

"Be comforted." Danny allowed his eye to wander over to his pillow, where the book laid hidden. He felt a strange impulse to share it with her, to tell her about his new revelation with ghosts. After a moment's silence he asked, "Jazz, do you believe in ghosts?"

She paused before answering. "Not really. There's no hard evidence for their existence."

"And, what if you had some hard evidence?"

"I'd probably exhaust every other possible explanation before accepting the hypothesis that ghosts were the cause."

Danny chuckled. "That sounds like you." He couldn't tell her. She wouldn't believe him, just like he wouldn't have believed it if Mr. Worth had just told him that ghosts existed instead of allowing him to figure it out for himself. He felt almost pained, wishing that she could see the truth that he saw. He felt relieved, happier knowing in spite of the darkness that surrounded that truth.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. Mom came and talked to me after I yelled at you… and her."

"And?"

Danny scratched his neck. It couldn't hurt to tell her the same thing, could it? After all, that had been when it all started. "She told me that I didn't have to believe in ghosts, they believed in me." He paused, and then grinned. "And that I should be nicer to you."

"Good to see that you're taking her advice then," Jazz laughed nudging him back. "The non-ghost one."

Danny felt his smile fall slightly. He shouldn't have expected anything; maybe it wasn't the same for her. But then, why wasn't it? Why would the ghosts come only after him and not her? He sighed, deciding to stop himself from thinking too much about it. There wasn't any way for him to answer it. Jazz yawned and stood.

"I need to go to bed."

"Yeah, same here."

She smiled at him, and wrapped her arms around him in a brief hug before leaving, closing the door behind her. He stared after her for several moments, wondering when the truth would reveal itself to her. Maybe it never would. He reached under his pillow and pulled out the book again, gazing at the cover.

"I should get to bed too," he said, though he was reluctant to put the book away. Part of him told him that there was no point now; he was going to be dead tomorrow no matter what. Though, the other argued, if he went to bed now he might not sleep completely through his classes. Grudgingly, he slid the text underneath his bed.

He had almost drifted off to sleep with a wave of cold washed over him, words hanging in the air above him for a second before vanishing, like a wisp of smoke caught in the breeze.

"Don't get caught alone."