Vlad was braiding Jasmine's hair for school when the hunter entered his laboratory.

The laboratory's proximity sensors, wired to his cellular, alerted him to the intrusion. And all thanks to his precious Maddie – well, his approximation of Madeleine, anyway – he even knew the identity of the specter. Humming quietly to himself, he sent a clone to detain Skulker for the time being.

As of now, Jasmine required his full attention.

Bless her, his little one had been doing so well the last week. She asked questions without reservation or prompt. She'd formed several new friendships in school, even going so far as to gain a perfect mark on her latest mathematics exam. Jasmine was thriving in her own way following that. . . unfortunate break-down during breakfast. So, when she'd asked him for princess braids that morning, he'd been all too happy to oblige. Although, he'd admittedly placed his own spin on the request.

Gently, he finished tying off the main braid down the crown of her head with a thick leather tie, smiling a bit at his handiwork. His own hair was not very receptive to braiding; however, he'd recently taken to trying different things with Jasmine after the poor thing had come home in tears one March afternoon. There was a horrid little girl in her class – Paulina was her name, if he remembered correctly – who'd been teasing her relentlessly over not having "pretty hair" anymore. As though Jasmine's beautiful red hair wasn't good enough. As though her bows and ponytail weren't girly enough.

He probably consumed well over thirty different ways to braid and style hair for little girls in the following twenty-four hours, and ever since, Jasmine had been the envy of all her schoolmates.

"There you are, moy malen'kiy," he crooned. "Braids fit for a princess. Now! Do you have all your things?"

Jasmine nodded her head dutifully. "Mhmm! Dash and I are gonna read Matilda today! He's workin' on his reading 'cause he didn't do very good on our last test, so I'm gonna help him."

She was such a gentle thing, his Jasmine. Always looking out for her nearest and dearest friend. Honestly, much as Vlad disliked the idea of her best friend being a boy, he could find little fault in young Dash Baxter. The boy was sincere and kind and never failed to be Jasmine's protector, even when she couldn't defend herself. Especially when she would not defend herself, it seemed.

He chuckled lightly when she came running back in the drawing room, little pastel blue-and-purple backpack thumping against the back of her skinny legs. Vlad swept her up into a hug, blowing a raspberry on her cheek as the child giggled. She'd grown since coming to live at the manor. Though, not by much. She still fit comfortably in the crook of his arm.

"Alright, my dearest one, let's not keep Smith waiting any longer," he chastised gently. "You've school in less than thirty minutes, and I have business that needs attending to."

Jasmine's expression turned very serious. "Is Mr. Tadashi wanting to talk to you about the merger again? I told Mr. Jameson that he should've taken you all to a steakhouse instead. Mr. Tadashi said he likes American steaks very much."

It took everything in him not to chuckle. Despite his business associates' initial misgivings about having Jasmine in and around Dalv Corp, she'd taken quite a shine to the diplomatic aspect of business negotiations. Instead, Vlad nodded sagely, idly fixing a few fly-aways out of her fresh Dutch braids.

"Alas, my little princess, Mr. Jameson has yet to see the wisdom in your words," he lamented. "But that's not what I'm working on today, no. Now, no more talk of business. Have a wonderful day at school, lastochka, and I shall see you at snack time, alright?"

Smith was smirking by the door. His servant took an inordinate amount of pleasure about how thoroughly wrapped around Jasmine's pinky finger he was. Vlad tended to either ignore him or subtly find ways to retaliate. Like switching the salt and sugar containers precisely before his butler prepared the morning coffee.

As he placed Jasmine on her own feet, the precious girl nodded one final time and hugged him tightly about the neck. Vlad gave her a gentle squeeze in return.

"Okay, Uncle Vlad. I'll see you later." She gave him a wet, smacking kiss on the cheek before running over to grasp Smith's hand.

"Are you ready to go, little miss?" the manservant questioned, soft as his gruff voice could manage. "You've all your things? Homework? Lunch box?"

Internally, Vlad snorted. As though he was the only one wrapped around Jasmine's pinky finger. . .

Jasmine nodded one final time decisively. "Yes, sir. I double-checked." As they walked out the door, she glanced over her shoulder and waved, a small smile on her little face. "YA tebya lyublyu (I love you), Uncle Vlad! Bye!"

It was like being stabbed in the chest but in the nicest way possible, and Vladimir Masters didn't precisely do feelings, but this one he could probably manage. He stood there for a few moments, just staring at the heavy oak door that had closed behind them. Then he smiled, whispering, "I love you, too, little one."

A twinge of irritation broke him from the moment. It trickled into the back of his mind, streaming from the clone he'd sent to keep Skulker occupied. The hunter was impatient. He was asking questions, demanding answers, setting terms that had not been in the agreement. Vlad rolled his shoulders and curled his lip in a sneer, allowing the burning, searing agony of transformation to wash over him before phasing through the floor towards his laboratory.

Business practices required a certain level of etiquette, decorum if you will, and he did so despise a rude associate. There were rules, as the dear warden was so fond of spitting. And without rules. . .

The clone he'd sent to the laboratory faded in a wisp of magenta, and Vlad descended into his laboratory with a well-aimed blast of plasma. It barely missed Skulker's throat, grazing just at the joint of the shoulder, and the half-ghost smiled at the hunter's responding shriek.

"I do believe I warned you during our last contractual obligation the price for making demands in my home, Skulker," he droned, keeping his tone just above frigid.

Well, without rules, men became nothing but beasts, didn't they?

Skulker was in the vicinity of beast without help, it seemed. He snarled, one hand clamped over the minor burn on his neck, and clenched his fists. Vlad merely sneered in return. He touched down gently in the middle of the room, folding his arms behind his back. The shadows roiled. His AI hummed with security protocols at the ready. Contingency plans were a businessman's bread and butter, after all, and this was a deal that would not be falling through.

"I trust you have my godson's location?" Vlad questioned. "It would be rather. . . unfortunate, if you'd decided to report to me empty-handed."

Skulker rolled his shoulders and scoffed, irritated. "I may not be the revered Vlad Plasmius, but I'm not an idiot. I found the boy – he's Walker's newest ward, as I suspected."

A thrill of anticipation shot through Vlad, though he was careful not to show it. He managed a smile, careful to bare his fangs as he clapped his hands together. "Wonderful! I trust you'll be able to escort me there? Jasmine has been desperate to see her brother again, and I'm not keen on seeing her upset for much longer."

There was something about the look that shot through Skulker's eyes Vlad didn't like. It was too defiant, too courageous. The hunter was not a coward by any stretch, but he'd never failed to be cowed by his betters before. So the sudden squaring of his shoulders and setting of his jaw just didn't sit right. Vlad could feel his fingers itch, wanting to fidget. He shoved the impulse down.

"There's a couple of things you need to know going into this, Plasmius," Skulker began. "First thing's first – Danny isn't strong enough to leave the Ghost Zone."

Vlad felt his smile drop, morphing into a sneer of contempt. "Oh? I can assure you, I'm perfectly capable of assessing whether or not Daniel is able to leave – "

The little wretch had the gall to interrupt him. "You don't understand. You will, eventually, but you just don't get it. Danny can't regulate his core. Danny still can't really fly by himself yet. And he's got lots of traumatic bullshit going on that a psychotic ass like you can't begin to comprehend. Which leads me to my second point – Walker isn't the only one taking care of Danny. Spectra is, too."

worthless worthless egotistical little wretch oh poor little baby vlad, such a freak, can't even die right can he? what does Maddie not love you does jack not care are you still that little immigrant boy do you not know what to do anymore can't make friends can't find someone who loves you maybe you should just end it vladdie boy maybe then you'll be useful so spectra and I can have a decent meal what do you say? jump boy jump boy and don't catch yourself oh no vlad where are you going don't lEaVe. . .

It took him a moment to catch his breath, but Vlad finally managed to choke out, "He let Spectra near my godson?! And you have the nerve to call me psychotic?!"

Rage hissed through his veins, clawed at the inside of his skull, and everything was white-hot. His knuckles popped, one by one. It felt like he was going to combust. There was venom leaking from his veins, and it tasted like rusted metal. To his credit, the defiant set of Skulker's jaw didn't budge an inch, not even when Vlad invaded his personal bubble. He barely flinched away at all.

"It's not nearly as awful as it sounds, Plasmius, trust me," the hunter growled. "She adores the kid. Danny adores her right back. It's almost scary how much they love each other. And if she thinks for a second you're about to take the whelp from her or hurt him? You won't have to worry about the new wards Walker has set up around his lair. Because she'll chew you up and spit you out and to hell with whatever consequences might come calling. Understand?"

He could feel his pulse in his ears, pounding in through his skull. The walls were caving in. He could still see her face, grinning and beautiful with those damnable eyes glowing like poison in the shadows, mocking him from behind Bertrand's shoulder. Pitching in every so often, scraping at nerves already raw until there was nothing but cold, numb, bone-aching misery seeping through his entire core. She probably didn't even remember him. Didn't remember the young man melting from the inside out due to radiation poisoning.

But Vlad remembered her. And he hadn't forgiven anything.

He forced his hands to still. He forced his heart to slow. He forced down his urge to gag. Set fire to the fear. Set fire to everything. The walls of his skull, the shadows of his fear, the worthless useless forgotten little boy who's gonna care when you're gone? ice of his doubt. The lab was cold but sweat trickled down the back of his neck. He hadn't even been sure that his ghost body could sweat.

Walker. Unstable ghost-core. Spectra. Wards.

One thing at a time.

Walker.

Warden – large, powerful, self-righteous. Too many rules packed into a muscle-bound body that was deceptively clever. He'd seen many things, knew what to expect from those looking to skirt the law. Knew the loopholes and how to close them. He was stubborn and a pain. But he could be managed if you followed the laws to a degree.

Plasmius was dead – half-dead still counted, it seemed – and as such, his claim as godfather took precedence now that Danny had been found. It should be enough to sway the dear warden.

Unstable ghost-core.

Cores weren't always stable after initial formation, particularly if you were young at death. But there were measures one could take to speed the process along. They were uncomfortable, certainly, but they wouldn't cause any lasting damage if he needed to implement them on Daniel. And diet in particular could help stabilize that, even if he was living in the human world. All they needed was technology and time.

Wards.

Wards were. . . tricky. Depending on how Walker had keyed them, they could remove him from the warden's lair for any number of reasons. Skulker had mentioned a threat to cause harm. That would negate the wards as a threat – Vlad had no intention of causing harm to Daniel. Not now, not ever. But they could also be keyed to any number of things. Trust, criminal records, family members, beasts, anything. Their strength would also be difficult to gauge until he'd seen them for himself. Certain wards were mild, mere gatekeepers, while others could be. . . decidedly dangerous if not respected. They could be a problem.

Spectra.

green eyes staring out of shadows bleeding into red and there's a smile underneath them, pink-painted lips that mock him and call him lonely bitter worthless weak failure failure failure what would mommy say now? hmm? and there's a shifter too and his smile is quick and it cuts like a blade and he morphs his face and those eyes in the corner turn scared then smooth to delight and he's so fucking miserable he wants to die he wants to die but he can't 'cause he even fucked that up and

Penelope Spectra was dangerous.

Penelope Spectra was gut-wrenching.

Penelope Spectra was definitely a Problem.

Vlad took a breath. He clenched his fists. He stared Skulker down, jaw taking a mulish tilt, and found his sneer once more.

"Thank you for telling me these things. If you would be so kind, I would like you to take me to my godson."

Skulker blinked at him, eyeing him carefully. "Are you sure? It might be better if you just –"

This time, Vlad interrupted, one hand striking out viper-quick to grasp the hunter's throat. He squawked, metal fingers clawing for purchase once more. A familiar scenario. It centered Vlad, in a way. Made him feel more in control. He smiled, fangs still dripping venom.

"Perhaps I should rephrase." He squeezed a tad harder, bringing the cyborg's skull-like face in close. "Take me to my godson now. Before I do something we both regret."

Gagging, Skulker managed to choke out a "Fine!" before he was dropped. He gasped, coughing for breath, and Vlad sneered in distaste.

"Get ahold of yourself. It isn't as though you need to breathe anyway, dolt."

Heavy boots scraped across the pristine concrete surface of his laboratory floor as Skulker got to his feet. His eyes burned. Vlad's fingers twitched. He smashed the urge to fidget beneath his heel, ground his teeth together as though they could anchor him to the ground.

Skulker pressed a button on his wrist implant. His eyes were still hateful, but he wasn't striking out or something equally foolish. The rocket-boosters implanted along his spine, nestled below his shoulder blades, extended into position.

"Come on, then," he growled. "They'll be expecting us."

Vlad nodded in acknowledgement. The portal whirred behind them, glowing sickly green against the pristine sterility of the laboratory. It made his gut churn. He ignored the sensation, following Skulker through the portal and into the swirling, icy vortex of the Ghost Zone. Electricity washed over him. Power in flux.

weak worthless pathetic lonely loser little boy end it end it end it useless whelp give me a meal Vladdie boy you'll never be good enough never be strong enough she'll never love you not worth it just let it end make it end c'mon, boy, just give it up, will you? and there are eyes in the corner bright green like poison and the shifter's smile is wide but the witch's smile is wider still and –

There was a witch with his godson.

Vlad smiled – Baba Yaga would fall.

And then?

Everything would be perfect. . .

~*O*~

danny doesn't know what's happening.

he doesn't know what's happening at all and that's scary.

but he's trying to be a good little boy, so even though he's scared and a little frustrated, he sits still while mama combs his hair and doesn't itch at his yucky-looking arms or his regulator. he stands still. even when mama accidentally snags on his hair and it pulls but not hard, not like she means it, and mama mumbles something that might be "sorry" but he isn't quite sure. his tummy's in knots. his bones hurt.

mama says he's getting better, and tay says he's very brave, and sometimes he thinks that he hears a funny voice say that he's a clever little phantom, but right now danny feels so small. he wishes tay was here, but he left this morning 'cause he'd been cranky and didn't wanna be here. danny doesn't blame him.

mama's been real upset the last couple of days.

he doesn't know why – she won't tell him, not really.

because mama doesn't lie to him, not ever, and he wants to believe really believes that. but sometimes she doesn't always tell him the whole truth either. and papa won't tell him either, just smiles at him like he's sad no no no not sad never sad why is everyone always sad when they look at him? and ruffles his hair. papa says mama's been havin' bad days. like what he sometimes has. that's why she was crying the day emmy played songs for them, the day skulker came and had big bruises on his face and a limp and it made danny's fingers

ache

'cause he knows what those feel like. but mama had been crying and mama's brave and strong and pretty. she doesn't cry. and it was scary but danny knew that he had to help her. so he sat on her lap and gave her big hugs and told her that he loved her lots, loved her more than stars, and she'd cried even harder, and tay had said he loved her, too. mama cried a lot that day. they all slept in papa's bed that night, watched movies until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

mama's fingers are shaking, pulling at his hair on accident not an accident and tugging on his shirt sleeves. he feels so naked like this. his arms aren't covered, and he can see the top of the letter-scar on his chest, and it makes his tummy fill up with ice and he wants to go take a nap now, mama, please? everyone's nervous.

"They'll be here in ten, Pen," papa says, and his voice is rough, and it makes danny flinch.

he doesn't mean to. but papa still sounds scary sometimes when he's nervous. mama stops combing his hair. she puts her hand on his head, smiles at him but it's wrong at the edges. wrong wrong wrong and it doesn't belong on her face and danny's so confused, mama what's going on? her eyes are red and she jumps like she's scared and she holds him too tight when she picks him up, like she thinks he's gonna fly away.

danny's never gonna fly away.

he's a good little boy what a little ghost a little freak tell me what you did to danny you monster! and he loves her.

mama? his voice sounds small, very quiet, and danny wraps his fingers tight in the back of mama's shirt. what's goin' on?

she swallows real hard. he can feel it against his cheek. then she walks over the couch and sits him down on her lap. she smiles again, and it's still wrong at the edges, and the ice in danny's tummy gets colder, bigger, and his regulator makes a weird beep-whine that makes him wanna throw it away. his fingers are shaking. he's trying to be a good boy, honest. but it's hard, being scared. his lip wobbles. his eyes feel. . . leaky. mama says that his eyes aren't quite the same anymore, that mommy hurt them real bad when it went dark and that's why sometimes he gets green sticky stuff on his cheeks when he cries. it's gross. he doesn't like it.

mama clucks her tongue at him and she brushes away the sticky stuff. her smile is a little more wrong.

"Danny, I want to talk to you about something, and I need you to listen very carefully, okay?" mama's got her doctor voice on, so he nods, ignores how his tummy knots and his bones hurt. "There's someone coming to the house to see you in a few minutes. His name is Vlad – do you remember him at all?"

danny frowns. thinks hard and chews his lip. he remembers pictures of a man standing with mommy and daddy. his smile had been wrong, too, and his eyes had been blue, blue, blue like emmy's hair. he nods. says daddy said uncle vlad was our fairy godfather.

for some reason, mama snorts, and it makes the knot in his tummy loosen a little. she smooths his hair out of his face again, says, "That's right, baby. Vlad is your godfather. He's coming to see you today, and it's very important that you listen to what Mama about what to do. Do you understand?"

he's scared. he doesn't understand. he nods and says, yes mama.

"Vlad looks a little. . . . different from his pictures, and he can be a little scary sometimes. But you don't have to be scared, baby. When he gets here, we're going to go outside and talk, and me and Papa will be right there with you the whole time, okay? If you get scared or uncomfortable or you don't want to talk anymore, just ask for a snack and we'll come inside."

this

this isn't

he doesn't

danny's lip is trembling and he wants to cry and he says, mama why are you scared? why is he scary? what's gonna happen what what what?!

and mama hugs him real tight to her, shushes him and kisses his hair lots and rubs big circles on his back. "Mama hasn't been good at explaining this, has she, sweetheart?"

she hasn't he's scared what's going on? danny holds her tight and lets her kiss the top of his head. he sniffles, whispers, mama you're actin' weird and it's scary.

mama swallows hard again. she pulls him back, makes him let go. but she's gentle. mama's always gentle with him, even when he's grumpy and doesn't want to listen to the rules. even when he's having a fit and screams and screams and screams until his throat hurts, like he's swallowed glass, and she and papa have to take turns keeping him warm 'cause he gets too cold. mama loves him and she's gentle and danny doesn't understand? why's she scared? nobody should ever scare mama ever.

his lip wobbles. mama holds his hands, rubs her thumbs over the backs, and kisses his forehead.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry – Mama didn't mean to scare you." she breathes in, then out, and it's shaky. "Listen to me, honey. Your Uncle Vlad and I don't always get along, and sometimes I get nervous about meeting him. But just because I'm nervous doesn't mean you have to be scared, okay? You never ever have to be scared here."

her eyes are serious and green and danny knows she's telling the truth. mama doesn't lie to him. she's said so, and he believes her because that's what good boys do they believe even if they don't and it hurts so this isn't something wrong. he reaches up and touches mama's cheek, frowns a little. he bites his lip. this time, when mama smiles, the edges aren't wrong.

I didn't know you got nervous, mama, danny whispers. how come?

she rubs her thumb between his eyes. it tickles, and he giggles even though his tummy still aches. "Oh, Mama gets nervous all the time, honey. I'm just usually better at managing it. That's part of being a grown-up. You get nervous sometimes."

nervous like me? it's a whisper, and danny isn't sure he wanted to say that out loud.

he's scared to look. but then mama puts her finger under his chin, and he looks at her, and she gives him a smile again. she kisses his forehead, whispers, "Sometimes, baby." then she gives him an eskimo kiss, grins at him, and danny can't help but giggle.

you'll be right there? I don't hafta be alone? he asks.

"Mama and Papa will be right there with you, okay? So you don't ever have to be nervous." mama picks him up and he sits on her hip, plays with the ends of her hair. "Do you feel better now?"

danny nods. 'cause mama seems like she feels better now, so he feels better too. he doesn't like it when mama doesn't feel good. he's still confused, still a little nervous. but mama's smile is right again, and she and papa are gonna keep him safe, and even though he doesn't really know uncle vlad, danny knows that everything is safe.

everything is right because mama and papa are here.

"Pen, he's here." papa's voice comes from the front door.

mama goes stiff again. her smile is tight. danny bites his lip, then reaches up to hold both her cheeks. he tries to look serious, but he doesn't think he's very good at it, 'cause it looks like mama's trying not to laugh at him.

you don't gotta be nervous, mama, he says, 'cause me an' papa are here, too. you don't gotta be alone, either.

this time, mama's eyes go watery again, and she hugs him real tight. danny squeezes back just as hard because he's a good boy now. he's gonna make mama feel better, even if she confuses him, even if she scares him on an accident. even if he doesn't quite understand what's going on. 'cause that's what good boys do for their mamas, right?

"What did I do to deserve you, kiddo?" mama whispers.

danny shrugs, plays with her hair and tries to ignore the beep-whine near his tummy when she walks towards the door. it's gonna be fine. mama's gonna be right there, and papa will, too, and even if he gets scared then he can just come inside. it's safe. it's safe. nothing can hurt him.

it

is

safe

here

and uncle vlad can't change that. even if he makes mama nervous. even if papa's standing at the door and crossing his arms and looking real grumpy. even if his tummy hurts and his bones ache and he wants to curl up in a ball and sleep.

everything's safe.

he's good he's trying,honest.

then he looks at the man standing in the yard, who like the monster of the man in the pictures, and the ice creeps up his head, through his bones, and he holds mama like she's gonna disappear and danny just

freezes.

he understands now.

"It's okay, baby," mama whispers against his head. "You don't ever have to be scared again, remember? I'm right here."

ice in his tummy. cold cold cold deep in his bones and it hurts because that man has scary eyes, pointy teeth, and he stands next to skulker with his arms crossed and there's something so wrong about him. danny's scared. he's just. . .

deep breath. hug mama tighter. another breath. mama rubs his back and then papa's there, too, a big hand on top of his head. danny shivers. papa mumbles something to mama but his ears keep going whoosh! so danny can't quite make it out. his lip is shaking again. papa's hand is still on his head, smooths against his hair.

"Hey, punk, yer just fine," papa says, real quiet. "Mama an' I are right here. Nothin' t' be scared of."

deep breath.

you're a clever little phantom, aren't you?

danny doesn't know where he heard it, who said it, but he can see stars behind his eyes, a whole sky full of colors and lights and space and the ice in his tummy warms up. he's not shaking. he sees the stars and he stops. bright lights, colors painted across a big dark sky, warm and safe like happy dreams and cereal parties. he bites his lip and swallows hard and looks up at mama, then looks at papa.

okay, he says and his throat doesn't hurt so bad anymore. 'm not gonna be scared no more.

except he's always scared, always and forever, and he doesn't think mama is nervous like him 'cause she doesn't get scared at timers and she doesn't wake up with cutburnbreakpokescream all over her and she doesn't get so upset that she can't take stop screaming. he doesn't want to be like this. he wants to be good. so he's trying real hard and sometimes he doesn't think it's enough. nothing's enough. 'cause he's always gonna be a stupid, ugly, evil ghost. he's just gotten better at not showing it. like mama said.

mama holds him tighter. papa kisses his head.

they go out the door.

danny looks at the monster.

the monster looks back, smiling, and then the smile falls.

he's not gonna be scared anymore. he's not.

except he is.

~*O*~

Pen had been like a frog in a boiling pot all day, and it was rubbing off on him.

He'd sworn they wouldn't let Plasmius within twenty yards of Danny. But the longer they'd planned, the more they'd realized that just talking to the half-ghost wouldn't work. He was too smart, too mistrustful. All it'd do was make him more set on taking Danny once he found out what had happened. So they'd come up with a way of showing off the worst of the damage without causing a panic or making it look too obvious. And, most important, they'd thought it was the best way to keep Danny safe.

Now, watching Pen kiss Danny's forehead shakily, Walker didn't know whether to call the whole thing off and horde them all away or go over and shake her by the shoulders. Hard. His own nerves were running high. He could feel the wards itching all over him, humming with something that he couldn't quite name. It had gotten worse when Skulker sent his message.

Now, staring at the stark fear written all over Danny's face when he looked at Plasmius, Walker understood why his skin itched so badly.

Holding him, Pen was nearly as bad. She'd gone chalk-white, fingers shaking just a tad against Danny's back. Walker could practically taste her apprehension. Not that he could blame her – the half-dead nuisance made his skin crawl on a good day – but they needed to do this. They needed to get Plasmius to understand why taking Danny was such a bad idea.

Gently, he placed a hand on the small of Penelope's back. She startled, looking at him with wide eyes. "It's gonna be okay," he muttered. "I'm right here. Everything'll be alright."

She took a shaky breath and nodded.

His skin still itched.

Walker stayed half a step behind her as Penelope walked out to meet Plasmius, Skulker clapping him on the shoulder as he made his way towards the house. Danny was half-buried in her shoulder, body stiff and fingers white-knuckled on her shirt. They stopped a few feet away from Plasmius to maintain some breathing room.

"Breathing room" meaning giving them all enough time to react if Plasmius started something before the wards could activate.

"Warden," Plasmius greeted, voice like an oil slick. "Thank you for welcoming me into your home."

Every single inch of Walker's being wanted to growl and punch the halfa in his smug blue face. Instead, he took a breath and nodded once. "Plasmius. I'll thank ya kindly fer obeyin' the rules a' my lair."

A knowing hum left Plasmius, one eyebrow lifted, and Walker could feel the way his eyes traced the ward-glyphs on his skin. His shoulders were tight, but non-combative, arms tucked neatly behind his back. Then his eyes flicked to Penelope, and the beginnings of a sneer started to pull at his lips.

"Ah! Penelope, dear, it's been such a long time," Plasmius crooned, the barest hint of a razor-threat beneath his placid tone. "Tell me, how have you and Bertrand been doing? No trouble in paradise, I presume?"

Penelope went still. Walker's skin kept itching, the sensation rising to a fever-pitch. He glanced over at her. The mask he hated so much had slammed into place. This wasn't Pen – not the woman who consistently stole his pajama pants, swore like a sailor, and pretended she didn't cry at the end of Pixar movies. This was Spectra. Beautiful, cold, collected. Dangerous. The sight of Danny's little body tucked snuggly into her chest should've softened the image.

It didn't.

A smile of her own spread across Spectra's face, vicious and cold. "None at all," she crooned. "And you? No more hospital visits, I hope – you have such a terrible phobia if I remember correctly."

The smile Plasmius wore dropped, and if wasn't so unhelpful, Walker would've laughed at how quick the rug got ripped from underneath him. "Y'all quit takin' pot-shots. This's about lettin' Danny meet ya, Plasmius, so cool yerself off a bit."

He took half a step closer to Penelope, fixing her with a pointed look. "Don't egg 'im on, hon," he whispered. "It ain't worth it."

Pen swallowed. "Fine." She looked down at Danny, smoothing his hair away from his eyes. "Danny, baby, this is your Uncle Vlad. Can you say hi?"

To his credit, Danny lifted his head at the first prompt – he'd gotten braver when they weren't looking – and gnawed at his lip. Pen didn't say anything, gently pulling it out before he could chew a hole in it. Plasmius looked like someone had punched him in the gut and then killed his cat. Which, for Plasmius, meant his smug face was tighter around the eyes.

Still, he offered Danny a (surprisingly) warm smile, not a fang in sight. "Hello, Daniel. It's very nice to meet you."

Danny smiled back, shy and still a little wary. "Hi," he croaked.

Plasmius leaned forward just a tad, making a show of inspecting Danny head to toe. "Do you know, I haven't seen you since you were a baby, Daniel? You've gotten so big! You must be at least," the half-ghost hummed theatrically. "Thirty, I believe."

The absurdity of it was enough to break through Danny's shell, if only a bit. He started giggling, fingers reaching up to twist in Pen's hair. "Nuh-uh! 'm four, Uncle Vlad!"

He held up three fingers. Pen fixed them gently, uncurling his pinky and thumb with a half-smile. "You're five now, sweetie. Remember? We had chocolate cake for your birthday."

She still looked nervous, eyes darting back and forth between Danny and Plasmius. It didn't look like Danny was scared anymore, eased by the jokes and their presence. But she was rigid along the shoulders, hunched ever so slightly around the kid's body to keep between him and the half-ghost standing a few feet away.

Walker blinked in shock when Plasmius fake gasped in surprise. "What?! I didn't get chocolate cake for my birthday! Surely you've got to be all grown up by now. Do you have a job? I'm certain Jasmine doesn't have a job yet."

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, when had Plasmius learned how to deal with kids? Skulker had said he was taking care of his goddaughter – how on Earth he managed to have two different couples entrust their kids to him was beyond comprehension – but this was way past the realm of Walker's imagination. Apparently, it surprised Pen too, because she kept glancing over him with white-rimmed eyes. Scared. Apprehensive.

It didn't matter, though. Danny was their kid.

Danny wasn't going anywhere.

"Nope! Papa's got one!" Danny cheered, voice rasping but bright, his previous fear momentarily forgotten. "He. . . he catches bad guys! L-locks 'em up! Like Batman!"

Walker snorted. "Batman's a punk, kiddo. I'm a lot better."

The outrage on Danny's thin face was hilarious. But the shock on Plasmius's when the expression revealed his empty sockets was even better. "Batman's da bestest, Papa, don' say that!"

"Nope – he's a vigilante an' I'd throw 'im in jail," Walker teased, arms crossed. "Then I'd throw away the key."

Danny groaned and leaned hard against Pen's collarbone, hands pressed to his little face. "Papaaaa," he whined, "you're bein' mean!"

It looked like Penelope's eyes would roll into the back of her head any second. She shook her head. "They've argued about this for the last two weeks," she griped. "I swear, I'll ban comics and their cartoons from the house soon."

Plasmius blinked at her like his brain couldn't quite process what was happening. But he somehow managed to rally, shaking his head and offering a convincing enough smile for four-year-old. "Really? I remember reading comics when I was young, Daniel. My favorite was always Green Lantern."

An entirely different kind of frown crossed Danny's face. He turned to stare at Plasmius critically – which was always a little unnerving because you couldn't quite track what he was looking at – and wrinkled his little nose. It made the freckles sprinkled across his cheeks light up.

"Which one?" he questioned, serious as a heart-attack.

Plasmius answered just as seriously. "Hal Jordan."

For a minute, Danny eyed him, face scrunched in thought. Then he shrugged, a little hand scratching idly at the skin around his regulator. Pen caught his fingers and whispered, "Don't scratch, sweetie. It'll get irritated like last time, remember?"

"Green Lantern's okay," Danny finally decided, shrugging his thin shoulders. "Batman's still the bestest."

"Oh, but the Green Lantern has the power of will, Daniel," Plasmius argued, leaning forward like he was sharing the secret to existence. "And that is the greatest strength of all."

Walker felt his core leap into his mouth. The wards started itching again. He'd been so caught up in the conversation he'd forgotten exactly who stood in front of them. Now, looking at the sharp, cunning look in those red eyes, Walker couldn't forget. This man was unnerving on a good day, and downright dangerous on a bad.

And here he stood, talking about having the will to take their kid.

Walker felt his fists clench.

"Daniel, what's that you're scratching at?" Plasmius questioned, and it broke Walker out of his head.

Immediately, Danny wilted, sagging back into Pen with an apprehensive look. He wound a bit of her hair around his fingers. "It's my reg. . . regu. . . issa big word. Keeps me from bein' cold."

Pen kissed him on the temple, rocking a bit in place. "It's an energy regulator. Technus built it to keep him from having another energy build-up."

Obviously irritated from having lost Danny's favor, Plasmius narrowed his eyes sharply. "Another build-up?"

"It was a while ago." Walker butted in before Pen could lose her temper. "He's much better now, but his core's still a bit. . . funny about stayin' in-line. Ain't it, bud?"

Danny nodded against Penelope's throat. "Mmhmm! Gotta stay home an'. . . an' be good! It's my magic box."

Even though she was still white as a sheet, Pen snorted out a quiet laugh. "Technus would pop a wire if he heard you say that, baby."

It was true – Technus hated it when someone called technology "magic" because they were "two entirely different entities with different rules and regulating factors and how dare you compare the Master of Technology with some two-bit Halloween reject!" They'd had to listen to an entire fifteen-minute rant one evening while Tay and Danny laughed their little rears off. Just thinking about it was enough to give Walker a headache.

But the look on Plasmius's face was setting him on edge, a weird mix of seething rage and absolute disappointment, and Walker had a gut feeling that things were about to devolve quickly. They needed to send Danny inside. Now. Enough was enough, and they'd made introductions, so it was time to end this.

"Alright, big guy," Walker started, "I think it's gettin' close t' snack time. Why don'tcha say bye t'yer Uncle Vlad, an' I'll have Em make ya somethin'?"

Danny's shoulders – which had crept higher towards his ears the longer he watched Plasmius's face tense – relaxed immediately. He smiled that crooked little grin of his and nodded, wriggling a bit. "I'll go, Papa! Lemme go, Mama, I wanna walk!"

With a quick kiss to his forehead, Pen did as she was told. "Be careful, baby. Go slow on the stairs!"

He took a couple of wobbly, strained steps away, then paused. Danny looked over his shoulder, empty eyes vivid in his thin face, and waved. The track-mark scars on his arms shone pearlescent. Plasmius looked like he might explode.

"Bye, Uncle Vlad!" Danny croaked. "See ya!"

Without waiting for a reply, Danny turned and stumbled off towards the house. His legs were still a bit uncooperative, even after all this time, so he fell quite a bit. He still chose to climb stairs on all fours if he didn't have help. But he made it by himself, wrapping his arms around Em's legs where she stood by the front door, glaring death at the halfa. Skulker stood like a surly bodyguard behind her.

Walker couldn't help but smile a little – his girl was a pain most of the time, but dang if she wasn't overprotective.

It came in handy, though, because Plasmius didn't even move until they were both safely in the house and out of sight. When he did speak, though, Walker wished to Heaven he'd gone with his first instinct – punch the miserable SOB in the face.

"I want my godson, Warden," he finally drawled. "My claim takes precedence, I have the means, and I want my godson. You've no right to keep him from me."

Penelope bristled. "We let you see Danny as a courtesy, asshole!" she spat. "Did you even look at him? He isn't strong enough to live in the human world yet."

The sneer that curled Plasmius's lip was condescending and spiteful, and it set Walker's teeth on edge. "You'll forgive me if I don't take your charming skills in psychiatry as knowledge of ghost physiology," he drawled. "I'm quite capable of making that assessment for myself. And though I'll admit he's far. . . less healthy than I'd imagined, I'm sure he'll be quite capable of adapting to life in the manor. I've the technology to keep him stable, as well as access to a diet to help him progress."

"Bullshit!" Penelope snapped, voice a vicious hiss. "That's bullshit and you know it! He wouldn't last two days in the human world! Not to mention the psychological trauma leaving us – the only people he thinks he can trust – without warning could cause him! He's got fucking PTSD, Vlad. . ."

In all the months he'd lived with Penelope Spectra, Walker had come to realize that interrupting one of her rants was one of the worst things you could do. Ninety percent of the time, you just had to let them run their course, then make your point afterwards when she'd let off a bit of steam. It took something special to break through that kind of train-wreck.

The reaction Plasmius had to hearing her say his name was one of them.

His entire body seemed to swell, shadows roiling up from the spaces around them, face gaunt. His fangs seemed to drip out of his mouth like liquid daggers, too white and too sharp and entirely wrong. The look of fury in his eyes had to have been forged in Hell.

"Keep my name out of your filthy mouth, you psychotic fucking whore!" Plasmius snarled. "You don't deserve to say it! Not after everything you've done!"

Penelope's mouth snapped shut. She paled, fingers shaking, jaw tight. Walker felt his skin trying to split. It burned. His nerves were jumping. He felt like he could fight a Behemoth and win. So he didn't even hesitate to stand between Plasmius and Penelope, shoulders back and teeth set and this was what he'd been afraid of. Pen did bad things – he knew that, deep down. Her reputation was. . . kind of scary, if he was being honest.

So, yeah, he knew Pen had done some bad things. . .

"Watch it, Plasmius!" Walker growled. "You'll calm down or you'll leave an' not come back. Ever."

Plasmius was shaking, chest rattling with the force of his snarl, and his eyes were wild. "Do you have any idea what she did to me?! Has she told you all the nights she came to my bedside in the hospital?! The things she said to me?" Those eyes shot to Spectra over his shoulder, and Walker fought down the almost overwhelming urge to attack. "You have the fucking gall to stand here and lecture me on trauma when you let a monster like her around him every day?!"

He just hadn't realized how bad.

There was a sick feeling building in the pit of his stomach. Walker's skin was on fire, fingers twitching, nerves pounding in time with his core. Penelope was white as a sheet, gnawing at her lip. Her hands were shaking. Plasmius, though – he was working himself into a frenzy. He looked kind of like his Paw's hound dog on a coon. Slathering, eyes rolling, ready to tear the first thing that crossed him just right.

Plasmius bore his fangs in a snarl. "You will give me custody of Daniel, warden. His sister misses him terribly. And you obviously don't have the common intelligence required to keep him away from monsters like her."

He spat the last word like it was coated in poison, and Walker felt the threads of his patience finally snap.

"Don't you ever presume t' tell me what t'do in my lair!" he growled. "Pen's done some bad things, Plasmius, I'll give ya that. But I couldn't've done half of what she has t' help Danny! That's our boy, yah half-dead fool. And I'll be damned if I just let ya waltz in here an' try takin' 'im!"

You could probably read a book by the light coming from Plasmius's eyes. "You have allowed a five-year-old child to play house with a woman who has told me to kill myself on multiple occasions!" he hissed. "Do you know what it's like? I was twenty years old. The doctors told me she was supposed to be helping me! And all I got was a face full of misery-sucking, self-important bitch who told me I was so worthless I might as well have died in the accident!"

Plasmius was clawing for air, practically foaming at the mouth. Walker could feel his skin threatening to split, shoulders taut, and he tried to take a step in between Pen and the raging half-ghost. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach didn't go away, and for the first time in a long time, he thought back to his initial worries about asking Spectra for help.

How could he have forgotten what she was so well-known for? How could he have forgotten that Penelope Spectra wasn't known for her smile or her complete inability to cook, but her lack of empathy and her ability to exploit your greatest weaknesses? He'd forgotten that she liked to play mind-games and could spin just about any situation to her advantage if she felt so inclined. He'd forgotten that she'd made meals out of teenagers because they're misery kept her pretty.

He'd forgotten.

Plasmius obviously hadn't.

"I am taking my godson," he growled, voice shaking. "He's going to grow up with his sister, in a mansion, with people who are actually qualified to treat whatever psychiatric issues he may have."

"Whatever issues he may have?!" Walker barked. "Christ, Plasmius, wake up! He don't have eyes, for God's sake! That boy was beaten and drugged and starved before his own parents tore 'im open like a frog in a science classroom. All 'cause he'd had some sorta accident! And you can sit there on yer high-horse all day long 'bout Pen, but we both know yer about two horses short of a full stable yerself. So calm down an' think fer a second – yer good at that, right?!"

Pen took a step forward, and Walker nearly startled when her hand landed on his shoulder. "Plasmius, Walker's right." She was quiet, voice just this side of shaking, but firm. "Danny has too many physical and mental conditions to be abruptly moved like this. We're all he knows. He's lived with us since November. We know all his triggers, all his self-soothing techniques, all the warning signs. We know his favorite foods, his favorite toys, what clothes he likes to wear. He thinks of us as parents – think about what it would do to him if that was all just. . . gone."

An animalistic hiss erupted from Plasmius at her directly addressing him, but he didn't attack. Judging by the way the wards burned and writhed around them, though, he'd seriously considered it. Instead, he took a few steps back, fingers flexing and jaw working. Lip curled, the half-ghost muttered something in Russian before locking his eyes on Penelope again.

Walker tried to block her from his view without thinking.

"I've heard. . . pieces about what happened to Daniel from Jasmine," Plasmius growled, every word like pulling teeth. "But I hadn't quite realized the extent of the damage."

For a moment, none of them moved. The quiet pressed in on Walker's head like a vice, too thick and heavy and all he could hear was the pounding of his core, thrumming in time with the pulsing ward-glyphs on his skin. He wanted Plasmius out. Out out out out not safe white eyes dry scales water rot iron she smiles and there's blood protect his family his kids his home Pen.

Plasmius broke the silence. "Daniel seems to be. . . functioning with you, warden, if not thriving," he admitted quietly. "And your thought on keeping him in the Ghost Zone to stabilize his core further has merit, at the very least."

Pen's nails dug into his shoulders abruptly. "So we're agreed? Danny stays with Walker and I?"

The pure hatred that seeped out of Plasmius nearly made Walker punch him. "Much as I detest the thought of leaving anyone I care for in your company, the child is clearly attached. It would be cruel to strip him of a mother-figure, piyavka though she may be. So, for the time being, yes – Daniel stays with you."

If it wouldn't be so weak, Walker might've let his legs give out with relief. Penelope nearly did. Nearly her whole weight pressed against his side, and he had to wrap an arm around her shoulders to keep her from collapsing.

"Thank you, Plasmius," he sighed, exhausted.

The half-ghost sniffed and flexed his claws, fangs glinting in a cold sneer. "However," he let the word hang for a moment before continuing, "if I catch even the slightest hint that Daniel would be better off with me, the barest idea that he might not be thriving? I will come here. I will take him. There isn't a ward in existence that will be able to stop me. And if she hurts him?" A savage facsimile of a smile curved his lips. "I will take great pleasure in breaking her."

Fire lanced up Walker's arms. He shot forward and grabbed Plasmius by the throat, idly noting that his arms were entirely black. Everything burned. But there was something about the threat that just ran all over him, that made his core shriek, and Walker yanked the other man nose-to-nose with him. It felt good seeing the shock, the fear, that played across the billionaire's face.

"Good t' know, Plasmius," Walker snarled. "Now – git off my property."

With a flick of his wrist, he sent Plasmius flying. The half-ghost shot well beyond the bounds of the lair, shrieking in pain as he went. Walker felt like he'd touched a livewire. Too small for his body. His skin was splitting. His skull was cracking. Everything was too bright, syrupy, like liquid glass. Plasmius roared, furious, but didn't attempt to come back. Not when the wards were visible, writhing red and gold. Not when Walker could see power arcing away from his fingers. When his skin radiated heat.

How dare he?!

Everything was blurry and sharp and hot and angry and he just couldn't shake the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and dry scales a deep voice fangs in his arm bodies crumbling to dust against him and it's Danny no it's Taylor no it's Em no it's Johnny no it's Pen and she smiles with bloody teeth and he can't stop crying because he promised and the gunny doesn't have any legs and he's charred but he turns his head and laughs laughs laughs why is it so hot?! and

"Walker? Walker, honey, look at me."

Wait.

A voice.

Pretty, light, scared. It curled up at the edges. He'd heard it before. He knew that voice.

Walker turned to his left. Pen stared up at him, her eyes too big, too scared, and that was wrong. Pen should never look at him like she'd scared him. Ever. He never wanted to scare her. Not now, not ever. He wanted her to smile, to laugh.

He wanted. . .

Everything ached, sore, but he wasn't burning anymore. The world slowed down. The edges blurred a little. Walker felt his fingers start shaking.

The pit in his stomach still wouldn't go away.

Penelope's lip trembled, her eyes watering, but she didn't cry. That was good. He never wanted to see her cry again.

"He's safe," she whispered. "He's not going anywhere. You did it."

Walker swallowed. His tongue was too thick, throat too dry. "'course I did. I promised."

Penelope laughed, startled and wet. "Yeah. . . yeah, you did!"

His fingers wouldn't stop shaking.

"Come on, Tex," Pen murmured. "Let's go sit down. Cool off."

Cool off? But he wasn't hot anymore. Walker didn't understand. But then she wrapped her hand around his, all delicate fingers and soft skin, and he let Pen lead him to the porch swing. He sat down. His legs felt heavy. His head hurt.

Pen sat next to him. Wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Snuggled against his side. She was warm and soft. He swallowed again. Took a breath. Held her tighter and buried his nose in her hair. She smelled like mint shampoo and fresh laundry and pancakes with syrup. Home.

When had Pen started smelling like home?

"We're gonna have t' talk about what Plasmius said," he rasped, and his voice was raw. "Y'know that, right?"

Pen nodded. Ran her fingers over his knuckles. "I know. Soon. Just. . . just not right now, okay?"

"What he said was awful, Pen."

"I know."

She sounded tiny. Tiny and quiet. Which she wasn't.

Walker felt like there was a hole in his chest. "Can. . . Can I trust you?"

Next to him, her breath shuddered. Her grip got tight. But the wards didn't respond. No threats here. "Always, big guy. But let's just. . . not talk for a little bit, okay?"

Not talk, huh?

Walker nodded. Gripped her hand back. Inside, he could hear Skulker and Em with Danny. They were watching Batman again. He buried his face in Pen's hair and squeezed his eyes shut. Held her hand and tried to pretend this was a nightmare. All a bad dream. No screaming half-ghosts or threats or wards. Just them. Just like normal.

He could go without talking.

but it didn't make the pit in his stomach go away.

A/N

. . . this is long overdue, but school has been kicking the SHIT out of me, and I haven't had the proper muse to stay focused with this story. BUT! I overcame and present to you this gargantuan monstrosity of a chapter!

It's very angsty, and I wasn't entirely sure where I wanted to go with the final confrontation here. But I think I finally got it rounded out in a way that makes sense enough. From here on, folks, we'll be doing some MAJOR healing. Spectra's done some nasty, nasty things. I think we'd all forgotten that, soft Mom that she is. But this means she's going to have to face it and begin to atone for all that wrong shit.

Vlad is still a bastard. A sad, PTSD-riddled bastard. He will remain a bastard until I say so. But, that being said, he's not incapable of making good decisions. . . it's just rare. Don't worry - he'll fuck up again in the very near future.

ANYWAY! I hope you guys liked this chapter. Please leave a comment because I'm a sad, depressed pharmacy school student and they are my life-blood, my only reason for waking in the morning. And I shall see you all in the next one!