Danny

"I wake up with a good attitude every day. Then idiots happen." - Unknown

I am a colossal moron.

Not because I came here on a wim for reasons unknown even to me. Not because I refuse to switch forms to heal faster (more on that later).

No, the reason I'm a moron is… Well, there are a few reasons.

Let's start with what happened after we finally got to take Jazz home from the hospital. I'd begged her not to tell Mom and Dad that it was Danny Phantom who saved her life and not medication or whatever because I knew what they'd say. Naturally, she did it anyway.

"Sweetie, we want to believe you," Mom said sincerely. "But, think about it logically. Why would Danny Phantom drop into the hospital out of the blue to help a girl he doesn't even know?"

"He could have," Dad responded. I had hope until, "Don't forget, it was Phantom who put Jazz in a coma. If he did save her, he probably did it to save his reputation."

Mom hummed in agreement. "That's a good point, Jack. I wonder if we should test her for any remaining ecto-contamination."

Jazz gritted her teeth in the start of a snarl. "I don't need tested-"

"Who cares how it happened?" I interrupted because I didn't want to hear any more. "Jazz is okay now. Can we please just focus on that?"

Of course, Mom and Dad agreed. Jazz gave me that protective look when their backs were turned, but I shook my head. It really was my fault that Jazz had been on life support, despite what even Jazz herself tells me, and I knew that our parents would never stop hating me because of it, whether they realized it or not.

I thought it would be no different than it was before they agreed to leave Phantom alone. I can handle shots fired at me. I can handle harsh words and death(?) threats shouted in my direction. I don't like it, but I can handle it.

But now their daughter was almost killed. They've stepped up their game.

The team (minus Jazz, who insisted on coming but relented when the rest of us demanded that she take more time off to recover) and I were doing our daily patrol, keeping an eye out for danger, supernatural or otherwise. We always split up and communicate via Fenton Phones, which only work when we press the button on the earpiece, and today was no different.

Until it was.

I was flying at the edge of town when a bright green beam soared in front of me, making me fly back a bit from shock. A few more beams also flew past me because my father isn't great with long distance attacks.

But, Mom has the aim of a professional sniper, so every one of her shots was a hit. I didn't call for help; I didn't want Sam or Tucker or - gulp - Jazz to see this, to see the people who love me so genuinely attack me with weapons and those looks of raw hatred.

"Nobody hurts a Fenton and gets away with it!" Dad shouted, pulling a little stick-thing off his belt.

My body was already charred everywhere from Mom's shots, which came at rapid-fire and were a lot more painful than usual. "But, Ja- your daughter is fine now! So, I hear," I added at the last minute.

"No thanks to you," Mom snarled, "you nightmare of ectoplasmic proportions!"

Another blast, this one a direct hit on my stomach because I was too stunned to dodge. She must have pressed a button or something, because this blast hurt so much worse, like someone rubbed blood blossoms into my skin. It was bad enough that it knocked me out of the air. The Fenton Phone fell out of my ear when I hit the hard pavement. No one was around, and I was still reluctant to get the team involved. And, more importantly, I refused to hurt my own mother and father.

Before I could recover, a sharp line of fire spread over my side. Neon green goo poured out of the gash.

"Ah ha!" Dad called in triumph, holding what can only be described as a green lightsaber over his head. I seriously regretted introducing him to Star Wars. "The Fenton Saber works like a charm!"

My head was too numb for a response. My parents have burned my skin, snared me in nets, drugged me with anti-ghost smoke.

They'd never made me bleed before. There was something…permanent about the act.

They weren't finished. They were gearing up for more. I blasted them back with ghost rays. Small ones. Very small. I had to. It was self-defense. That makes it okay, right?

I flew away as fast as I could while covered in stinging burns and bleeding from a bad cut. I didn't look for my friends. I didn't tell a soul what happened. My friends, especially my sister, worried about me so much without having this to deal with. Jazz was already on the verge of something with Mom and Dad, and the last thing I wanted to do was make her hate them.

This was my problem and no one else's.

I flew home and threw a lair of gauze over the cut - turns out my new healing powers only work on other people - knowing that it was sloppy work at best but not caring at the moment. Lucky for me, Jazz was so caught up in the schoolwork she missed while in the hospital that avoiding her was easy. After sort of dressing my worst injury, I went down to the lab and straight into the Ghost Portal. Why? Because as soon as I escaped my parents, I had the bizarre yet powerful desire to see Reaper and Eileen.

Perhaps the other reason I'm a moron is that I didn't just hide away and transform to both heal faster and keep my parents from hurting me worse. But, as I was patching myself up, watching ectoplasm seep out of me, I realized how lucky I was. If one of my forms is hurt, I can just switch to another form while that one heals and heals even faster than it would have otherwise. I am one of only three ghosts that I know of who can do that, who can just…ignore the pain.

There are ghosts out there - innocents who are just exploring or visiting loved ones or are simply curious about humankind, innocents who mean no harm at all - who get badly injured by people like Jack and Maddie Fenton. Those ghosts get captured, beaten, ripped apart.

Destabilized.

Just because they exist.

No. I won't transform. Not yet. I have to feel what they feel, to remind myself of what it's like to not be able to remove the pain at will.

It's just one more thing that ghosts and humans have in common. It's hard to believe that there was a time when ghosts seemed so…monstrous to me. And yeah, some of them are. But, a lot of them aren't.

Just like with humans.

I sigh heavily, fighting the urge to curl into a ball again as I wait for Reaper to return. A fetal position is not a fun thing when your entire body aches, especially your side and stomach. At least ghosts heal quickly and my side isn't bleeding anymore. Reaper did a good job with those stitches, no surprise there; I didn't even feel the needle.

Stitches. I needed stitches. Because of my parents.

I lightly run my fingers over the wound, visible through the torn fabric of my jumpsuit, as my eyes well up once more. I hope this doesn't carry over to my human-form. How would I explain a wound like this? I don't think "I tripped" would cut it.

I cringe at my own wording.

Out of nowhere, I hear a faint barking at a high-pitched cry of, "Doggy, come back!"

Before I know it, a small, slightly pudgy green dog is climbing in through the window I flew in from. Since he can't fly he must have ran up the wall to get here. Now he runs along the carpet and leaps into my lap, which sends a new wave of pain over my everything.

"Cujo," I grunt, "off! Off!"

Cujo whimpers, realizing his mistake, and jumps on to the cushion beside me. He sits down and lets me run my fingers through his short fur.

"Doggy!"

There's that little voice again. A very small, very young (too young) spirit flies in through the window. His skin is a pale gray, and there's a mess of white hair on his head. His eyes are bright red and glowing and have reptilian pupils. He's wearing a lavender-colored onesie, though the last time I saw him, that onesie accounted for chubby little legs. Now, the lower half of his outfit fades into a translucent white wisp of a tail.

I only met this guy once and very briefly, but a dead baby is a hard thing to forget.

"Doggy!" Bub shouts as he flies excitedly to Cujo. Bub frowns, disappointed, when he sees that the dog-ghost no longer feels like playing. "What's wrong, Doggy?"

"Cujo is just upset 'cause I'm hurt," I explain, keeping my tone light so I don't scare the - shudder - baby-ghost. "But, I'll be fine."

Bub looks up at me with so much innocence. "Who's Cujo?"

I pat the aforementioned spirit on the head. "That's the doggy's name. Cujo."

"Oh. I always called him Doggy."

"Well, I always called him Cujo. To be honest, I don't know what his real name is. It's not like he can tell us."

Cujo-Doggy-Whoever barks in agreement.

Bub points to me. "I don't know your name, but my name is Bub. That's my name."

I have to smile at him. "That's a cool name. My name's Danny."

Because babies have zero attention-span, Bub hovers in front of me and shows off his tail with a big grin. "Look what I can do!" He rapidly switches between the tail and a pair of legs.

The sight instantly brightens my mood. I've never met a ghost who can switch between legs and a tail like I can. "That's awesome, Bub! Hey, look down." Bub does so and I watch the amazement on his face when he sees my own legs morph into a tail like his though dark gray and much bigger. "You're just like me! Neat, huh?"

He giggles and claps his hands as I twirl my tail around his small form. Beside me, Cujo barks and pants happily, his purple tongue dangling from his mouth.

"You know what that tail is for?" I ask Bub as I release him and regain my legs. "It makes you fly faster. At least, it does for me."

"Okay!" Bub peeps. "Yeah, I got really scared 'cause I couldn't find my legs and some nice people told me that I'm gonna learn more stuff when I get bigger and it's okay."

I swallow a laugh at his enthusiasm. "Oh, yeah. You're gonna get different powers and your body will change too. But, it's not my job to explain that part."

Bub reforms his legs and lowers himself on to the spot beside me, on the opposite side of Cujo, laying on his back with his feet almost touching my thigh. "What is your job?"

I lower my hand to ruffle his hair, and he reaches up, grabs my ring finger, and sticks it in his mouth. I feel tiny teeth, including fangs, in that mouth, but Bub doesn't bite. He just sucks on my finger like a baby bottle. My heart melts.

Then it breaks. This is some human couple's child. I don't even think he knows the name his parents gave him. What could have happened to someone so young, so fragile?

I push the grim thoughts away because Bub asked me a question. "Well, I help people in the human realm. I keep them safe from mean people who want to hurt them or from other scary things."

Bub stops sucking on my glove long enough to ask, "Is that why you got hurt?"

No. "Yes, it is. I get hurt a lot when I protect people, but it's worth it to keep them safe."

"Your job sounds important."

"It is."

Bub squints at me, purses his tiny gray lips, then nods as if coming to some life-altering decision. That decision? "You're nice and I like you." With that pronouncement, he puts my finger back in his mouth, merrily kicking his little feet.

What happened to you, Bub? No doubt, your parents were devastated.

"Ah, Bub," Reaper says as they re-enter the room. "It seems that you have made a friend."

"His name's Danny," Bub responds, now spinning around as he floats closer and closer to the ceiling. "He's nice and I like him."

Another familiar face pushes past Reaper and flies to my side. What's Eileen doing here?

"Danny," she sits down where Bub used to be, her gaunt face a mask of worry as she takes my hand in one of hers and uses her free hand to brush my bangs out of my face. (Side note: I really need a haircut.) "Are you okay? What happened?"

The level of intimacy surprises me. Yes, Eileen and I have hugged before, but this gesture feels different. It's more tender, more nurturing, more…motherly.

"It's-" I clear my throat when my voice cracks. "It's a long story."

"There is time," Reaper says, sitting beside Eileen and resting their hands in their lap. "You may speak, child, if you have time as well."

Cujo whimpers and rests his head on my thigh, staring up at me with sad-puppy-eyes.

I check on Bub and see that he's gotten distracted and is now crawling down the wall and out the window. I'd be panicking if he wasn't already a ghost. Though, the sight still unsettles me.

"Shouldn't someone go get Bub?" I ask.

"Infantile ghosts can safely find their own way in the world," Reaper explains. "Bub does not need the level of care that he did when he was alive. He only stays here because he likes it, and he nevers wanders far anyway. He will be fine."

I knew that already, but it's still nice to hear. Doesn't stop me from worrying though.

"That was a human's child?" Eileen says. She puts her hand over her core and gazes sadly at the window. "Ancients beyond."

Indeed. "What are you doing here anyway, Eileen?"

Eileen gets a weird look on her face. "Oh, I just happened to be passing by and saw you through the window. Wanted to make sure everything was okay."

She's lying, but I don't care enough to call her out on it. Having her and Reaper with me is…oddly comforting. With Eileen, that makes sense. But, I barely know Reaper, though I do resonate with their desire to help total strangers. I meant it when I told them I admired them for it.

Oh, and I can't forget about Cujo. Somehow, dogs just know when they're needed.

I really do need to bring the team here once Jazz is back to one hundred percent. They would love this place. Especially Sam; she practically lost her mind (in a good way) when I told her that the Grim Reaper is real, assuming they and Reaper are one and the same. Which they have to be because look at Reaper.

My parents would lose their minds in a different way. They'd probably implant some anti-ghost bomb in the building or something.

I wish they could see that there are kind ghosts in the world. I wish they would realize that any time I break something or someone gets hurt because of me, it happens purely by accident and I truly do have good intentions.

Why couldn't I have been blessed with parents like Mira's? When Andrew and Natalie found out their daughter had become a ghost, they welcomed her with open arms. And, I'm sure Bub's parents would be the same way if they knew. And, I bet Eileen's parents-

Oh, right. Salem Witch Trials.

I must be making a face, because Eileen rests her hand on my thigh and asks, "Do you wanna talk, sweetie?"

Sweetie? That's new, coming from her. "Uh, could you not call me sweetie? That's what my mom calls me. I don't like anyone else calling me that," I clarify when Eileen gets this guilty look on her face.

I should say something. I know I should. But, no words form. My parents don't mean to hurt me. Well, they do, but it's different. They love me whole-heartedly. It's not like they're abusive on purpose-

They're not abusive at all. They don't know Danny Phantom is their son, so it doesn't count. It doesn't.

It doesn't.

Mom and Dad are my problem. I won't let anyone else get involved. Besides, I get the feeling that if I told Reaper and Eileen, it wouldn't be the ghosts getting hurt.

"It's nothing I can't handle," I say, hoping I sound confident. "I was just caught off-guard, is all. I'm fine."

Eileen isn't convinced, but it's Reaper who speaks. "When you are willing to talk, you are free to do so." Translation: You're full of crap but whatever.

"I should probably get home anyway," I say before I can reveal anything. Why do I want to spill my guts to these two? "I left kind of abruptly, and I lost my earpiece on the way. My friends are probably freaking out."

I nudge Cujo off my lap. Before I can stand up, Eileen whips something out of pocketspace - the pseudo-other-dimension-don't-ask-me-how-it-works where ghosts store small objects - and hands it to me. "You can use my phone. Let them know that you're alright. I've made calls to the human world before, so I know it works."

Her cell phone is…weird. It looks like a tv screen that fits in your hand. There's a round button beneath the screen, but that's the only button I see. Where are all the numbers?

"Sorry," Eileen says sheepishly. "I guess you're not used to ghost phones. 'On' button's on the side. Phone's in sleep mode. Just tap the button. I don't have a password-lock on it." Then she mutters, "Probably should though."

That doesn't tell me much. I press the tiny rectangular button on the side, very gently because this phone is so thin that I'm worried about breaking it. I mean, it's a phone made in the Ghost Zone, so it's probably sturdier than it looks, but I am not going to risk breaking my teacher's phone.

The image on the screen reminds me of my laptop's desktop. Only her background isn't a simple sky blue. Knowing how much trouble her sexuality got her into when she was alive, the sight of the lesbian pride flag makes me smile. But, the smile doesn't last, because I have no idea how to work a ghost cell phone. There are square icons on the screen, but I don't know what they mean or how to click on them. One icon has an outline of a phone and one has a speech bubble, so I assume they are for calls and texts respectively-

"You must tap the icons with your finger," Reaper explains, "in order to access the applications."

Eileen laughs at them. "You're the only person I know who says 'applications' instead of 'apps.'"

I have no idea what they're talking about.

I decide to try the phone-icon. I lightly tap it with my index finger and jump when the screen changes. There's the keypad. "You know Tucker Foley?" I say to Eileen. "Don't ever let him borrow your phone. He will never give it back."

Eileen laughs. "Duly noted."

Figuring that the screen-keypad works the same way as a human one, I dial Tucker's number since, for obvious reasons, his was the first number I thought of. When I can't figure out what to do next, Eileen tells me to tap the blue phone icon; apparently, the green one next to it is for calls in the Ghost Zone.

Note to self: get some of these things for the team.

Tucker picks up, and all I can get out is, "Hey, Tuck. It's Danny. I-"

"Holy shit, dude!" he shouts on the other line. To someone else - most likely two someone else's - Tucker says, "Guys, it's Danny!" There are some muffled girl voices in the background that become clearer after Tucker says, "Hang on. Sam and Jazz are here. Let me put you on speaker. Okay."

"Danny, where are you?" Sam asks. "You weren't answering your Fenton Phone or your cell phone," because the latter is useless in the Ghost Zone, "and we couldn't find you anywhere!"

It's Jazz's turn, and what she says makes me want to throw up. "Mom and Dad were going on about how they almost took you down!" She sounds near tears now. "They said you fought back. You never do that with them! Was it really that bad?"

This is worse than I thought. I need to put a pin in this before my friends do something they'll regret. (Even though a little voice in the back of my mind is telling me to be honest.) "I'm okay, guys. Whatever Mom and Dad told you, I guarantee that it's not as bad as it sounds. And, I'm so sorry I didn't contact you all sooner." That much is true.

"What happened, Danny?" Sam asks.

Since I'm basically an expert liar these days, the story comes to me pretty quickly. "A wild portal appeared, and out popped this…goblin-ghost-thingy. Some ghoul with, like, big teeth and claws and stuff. I think I lost my Fenton Phone during the fight. Anyway, the ghoul…got spooked when Mom and Dad showed up and ran back into the portal. Mom and Dad were shooting at me. I didn't really 'fight back' so much as deflect their attacks. But, one of the blasts knocked me in the portal too. Then the portal closed, and long story short, I am still in the Ghost Zone."

Please believe me. (Please don't believe me.)

"I'd say that sounds far-fetched," Tucker says, "But, we've seen weirder."

Jazz doesn't sound as convinced. "But, Dad said he used the Fenton Saber on you and you were actually bleeding!"

Shit. "It's not as bad as it sounds." It's worse. "The other ghost had already got a hit on me. Teeth and claws, remember? Yes, I was bleeding, but it's only because the Saber aggravated what was already there. Trust me, Mom and Dad barely did anything to me."

I think I can hear Jazz humming thoughtfully, but it's Sam who responds. "Well, whatever happened, are you at least okay?"

This, I can be honest about. Mostly. "Yeah. Luckily, I ended up near Reaper's lair, and they patched me up. Eileen's here too. This is her phone."

"Want us to come get you, Danny?" Jazz asks. "The Specter Speeder is back to being fully operational after last month's incident."

"How was I supposed to know those chickens could peck through metal?" Tucker argues. "They're chickens!"

"Ghost-chickens," Sam reminds him.

I laugh. I hadn't realized how much I craved some normalcy. "I love you guys. I'll be fine. I think I'm gonna hang out here for a while and recuperate. But, thanks anyway. How are things on your end? Any ghost problems?"

"Just an ectopus for me," Tucker says. "Nothing major."

"Lucky," Sam retorts. "I got stuck with the Box Ghost. He was stealing boxes of donuts from a bakery. He even had the audacity to offer me one of the donuts! It wasn't even vegan."

"That's Larry for you!" I snark. The Box Ghost's living name is Lawrence, and he hates being called Larry. Needless to say, I do it quite often. "Well, I guess I'll leave you to it then. Again, sorry for worrying you all so much."

"We're just glad you're okay, Danny," Sam assures.

"I second that," Tucker says.

"And, you're sure Mom and Dad didn't really hurt you?" Jazz asks.

(Tell them.) "One hundred percent certain. You know I'd say something if things got really bad."

We say our goodbyes and thank God for that because I don't know how much more lying I could have taken. I hate having to lie to those guys, but what choice do I have? They would just go after Mom and Dad. Jazz would especially flip out on them, and I don't want that.

My parents aren't bad people. They're just…misguided. They've said that they have evidence to back their theory that all ghosts are evil. Dad even sighted some video of Vlad Plasmius doing something - Dad didn't say what it was - that the government wrote off as a terrorist attack. They have evidence, so I shouldn't blame them for how they feel.

So, why does it hurt so much?

"What happened to you, Danny Fenton?" Eileen asks. Despite the fact that I was using her phone, I'd completely forgotten that her and Reaper were sitting right next to me. "Tell me your parents didn't do this to you."

I almost break under the combined forces of Eileen's concerned red eyes, Reaper's quiet but oddly soothing presence, and Cujo's nervous pawing at my side. "Like I told the guys, it was another ghost." Lies lies lies. "Mom and Dad barely did anything. I'm fine." I hand Eileen her phone. "I just need to rest for a minute, and I'll be good as new."

"Maybe you should switch forms," Eileen suggests. "Don't you heal faster that way?"

Now I have a new excuse for not doing that. "I'd still have to be a ghost to get home safely."

"Yeah, but-"

Reaper puts a hand on her shoulder. "The child has his reasons, I am sure." Translation: He's still full of crap, but whatever. "Eileen Merryweather, why don't you explore the residence? I should like some quiet time with Danny Phantom."

"Uh, okay." Eileen gives my shoulder a squeeze and flashes a soft smile. "Before you head back, maybe I can show you where my lair is. Just so you know for the future."

Something changed between us, but I don't know what it is. I just agree because that seems like a really good idea for some reason.

When she leaves, Reaper looks down at Cujo. "Alfie, why don't you go see how Bub is doing?"

Cujo barks and runs for the window Bub crawled out of.

I point in that direction in disbelief and say to Reaper, "His name is Alfie?" I am not calling him that. "First the Box Ghost's name is Lawrence, now Cujo's name is Alfie? Next you're gonna tell me that Ember McLain's name is Mildred or something."

Reaper chuckles. "I assure you that it is not." They stand up and ask, "Tell me, child, do you like to read?"

Well, that's random. "Uh, yeah."

"Very good," Reaper says. They turn to leave. "Come."

This just keeps getting weirder, but I am curious. I rise from my seat with some effort. While ghosts do heal faster than humans, I'm still pretty sore and the numbing solution that Reaper used - that stuff is potent - is wearing off.

"Perhaps this would be a good time to transform," Reaper suggests.

But, no one here has that ability. It's never seemed this unfair before. "I'll manage."

"If you insist." I like that Reaper doesn't push.

Reaper leads me out of the room and now the hall. They walk slowly, and I know it's for my sake. Just like the last time I was here, spirits and demons see me and whisper. And just like last time, they are either reverant (because I'm the guy who defeated Pariah Dark) or mocking (because I'm the weird ghost who takes care of the humans) with little in between. I try to tune it all out, but I've never been good at that sort of thing.

Then, completely out of the blue, that goblin-ghost turns out to be real and runs up to me. Only, it's not the terrifying beast I had described to my friends, though he does possess teeth and claws. He only comes up to my waist, and his head is too big for his thin body. He has haggard light blue skin and two sulfur-yellow horns on top of his head. Two small tusks of the same color poke out of his mouth. He wears a brown burlap dress and stares up at me with large red eyes that are full of wonder. It's the same look I get from small children back on Earth.

"You're Danny Phantom, right?" The voice, though gravely, confirms that this is a small child.

"Y-yeah, that's me," I say, hoping that's a good thing.

It must be, because the little guy holds his arms out and says, "Can I have a hug?"

This happens on Earth too, and it's always a pleasure. A little embarrassing, but flattering. It's just so pure and sweet, reminding me that there's hope. Children haven't been so tainted by the world that they can't see the good in it. When they're older, they'll look back on ghosts and remember that kindness exists among them.

Not that this guy has to worry about that part.

"Sure," I say. I start to bend down, but the demon leaps up to my chest and throws arms around me. I don't even mind that his tiny claws are poking into my back. "I see you can fly," I chuckle as I return the embrace.

When he lets go and floats in front of me, he says, "Thank you," so sincerely that it almost brings tears to my eyes.

After he flies away, Reaper comments, "Cornelius Softclaw is usually quite timid around strangers."

That's certainly not the impression I got. "Huh. Wonder what I did right."

Reaper hums and cups their "chin" then kneels down to my level and whispers, "Do not tell him I told you this, but Cornelius Softclaw lost his parents when Pariah Dark reawakened."

The warmth in my chest becomes as cold as my ice.

"Cornelius Softclaw knows that you are the one who avenged his parents, even if you were not aware of it at the time. I believe this is why he gives you his thanks."

Now the tears come. I blink them away, kicking myself for being so selfish. My parents are dangerous, yes, but at least I still have them. I can still hold them and talk to them and see them every day. Not everyone can say that.

(Not everyone can say their parents come at them with lethal weapons and make them bleed on purpose either.)

Reaper leads me down to the first floor as I fight the traitorous thoughts in my head. "I should like to see you here more often, Danny Phantom," Reaper says. "Yours is a calming presence, and-"

I can't help but laugh at that. "Calming presence? Me? I'm a fucking mess, man!" Then I realize that I just dropped an F-bomb on an Ancient and cringe. "I'm sorry. That-that wasn't very polite, was it?"

"I allow such language," they say before muttering, "though I am not fond of it."

My face cools.

Reaper goes on. "We are all 'a mess' in our own ways, Danny Phantom. Perhaps I should explain. You are an inherently kind soul, one who wishes to bring peace and happiness to others."

My blush deepens at the praise. "You're kind of embarrassing me."

Reaper huffs a laugh. "You are modest as well. A person such as yourself is not as common as you may think. That is why I ask you to stop by every now and again. Cornelius Softclaw is not the only one who comes here with a tragedy to tell. I and the Gargoyles do what we can to nurture those who seek shelter with us, but it is always good to have other kind souls present. I am not asking you to come every day. Only when it is convenient. Of course, this is entirely your decision."

That's…quite an offer. Helping others is my Obsession, and I suspect Reaper knows this. I also suspect that they would have asked regardless. Obsessions are a reflection of the things you enjoy or who you are as a person. We don't choose our Obsession, but we do choose how to fulfill it. I choose to protect my home and its residents. I've never really thought of anything beyond that.

Then I picture Bub kicking his feet as he sucks on my finger and Cornelius wrapping me in a hug filled with pain and gratitude.

"Sure," I say with little thought. "I can stop by sometimes. Today's Sunday, so maybe, like, every Sunday?" The more I think about it, the more my core purrs with excitement.

"That is acceptable," Reaper says. "If you can make it, of course. For now, let me show you my library."

The library is marked by two large purple-gray doors. Reaper opens one of them, and I step inside and marvel at how huge the place is. It's two stories high, and there isn't a single part of the very tall walls that doesn't contain books. Tables and chairs are spread around, and the place is empty aside from a handful of ghosts, including a Gargoyle who naps at one of the tables with their head down, drool leaking on to the table.

Reaper flicks a finger toward them, sending a tiny silver ghost ray toward the guard, who jumps up at the blast. They see their boss and fly away, shouting, "I wasn't slacking off!" Reaper and I just laugh. Even more amusing is that ghosts don't need sleep; that guy really was just slacking off.

"I find that sitting down with a book in your hands can be rather therapeutic," Reaper says as we step into the large room. "As you can imagine, there is something for everyone here. I thought that this would be a good place for you to rest until you feel well enough to travel."

"Sweet. Thanks," I say. Jazz will get a kick out of this place. In fact, when I bring her here, she may never leave! "Point me to the sci-fi section. Or fantasy. Or horror. Whatever's closest." Reaper leads me across the room. "So, uh, what kind of stuff do you read?" I ask.

"My tastes run toward the contemporary. Romance, mystery, the occasional comedy. But, I will stray from those genres if something catches my eye."

I wrack my brain for something to add. Just as we reach the fantasy section, I find something. "Have you heard of S.J. Kincaid's 'The Diabolic' series? It's got romance in it. I mean, most of the plot is about super soldiers and evil dictators and stuff, but there's romance. I've got the whole trilogy at home. I could, uh, lend you the books…" I trail off, realizing how lame I must sound.

But, Reaper surprises me. "If you are offering, then I will try them. Perhaps an exchange." They scan the shelves until they find what they're looking for. They pull three books off and hand them to me. "This is a human trilogy as well, featuring Earthen folklore. It is a slow burn, but you may enjoy it."

I take the stack. The book on top is Dreamer's Pool by Juliet Marillier. "I'll try anything once," I say. "I'll bring my books over next time I come."

"Very good. Stay as long as you please, Danny Phantom."

Before they can leave, I ask, "Why are you doing all this for me?

Reaper doesn't say anything for a long time. Then, "You selflessly put your life on the line for others. Surely, you can understand the desire to assist someone in need."

"But, you already patched me up."

"Some injuries cannot be healed with a needle and thread, Danny Phantom." Suddenly, the book's cover seems really interesting to me. "I will not ask you to tell me what has brought you here today. But as I have stated, you are welcome to return whenever you please. Not only to assist others. If you yourself need sanctuary, do not hesitate to come here more than once a week. This is a safe place for all. Including you, Danny Phantom."

I do feel safe. I feel more welcome here than I do in my own house. Maybe it's because this is a safe place for ghosts. My house is never safe. Not for me.

A pale green droplet lands on the book. "I might be here a lot," I whisper.

"That is acceptable," Reaper says solemnly. "I hope you enjoy those books. And, I look forward to reading yours."

I want to call them back when they walk away, but I stop myself. I must seem needy enough as it is. I don't want to take advantage of their generosity by making them stay.

Even though some part of me really wants them to stay.

Maybe that's why I thought of them after my parents attacked me. It's that effortless kindness, that desire to help. Reaper's right; I can understand that. I've always liked being there for someone, making them smile when they're down, feeling like I have a purpose. Reaper must feel the same way.

And, Eileen is like that too, I think, in the way she cares for her students. She went above and beyond to help me master Duplication - which she can also use - so that I wouldn't have to leave school all the time to fight ghosts. She saw me struggling, and her first instinct was to do something about it, even before she knew I was a ghost.

Reaper and Eileen. They're so…good.

Despite our agreement - only attack ghosts who pose a direct threat to the public - I know that Mom and Dad are just biding their time until they think Eileen slips up and hurts someone. And, Reaper… Well, Mom and Dad would take one look at them and hit them with the Fenton Saber. My parents don't know that Eileen pulled me aside after class just to ask if I was okay. Or, that Reaper was willing to help me save Jazz despite having never met either one of us before that day.

Or, that those two ghosts are acting more like parents than-

The thought stabs a hole through my chest. I love Mom and Dad despite their biases. And, they love me just as much. (They don't.) I don't want anyone else as my parents. (I do.) Even if things are a little more difficult from now on, I can handle it. (I can't.)

"Hi, Danny!" Bub startles me out of my thoughts. He floats in front of me, a wispy tail beneath him. Then he frowns. "What's wrong?"

That's when I realize that I'd been crying. I quickly swipe my sleeve over my face and reach for an excuse. "Um, sad book," I say, showing him the books I'm still holding. "It's a really sad book."

"Don't be sad. I will make a funny face!" Bub puts a finger in each corner of his mouth and pulls, sticking out his tongue and making a noise that sounds like, "Leh!"

I laugh at his antics, already feeling a little better. "That was a good one."

His job done, Bub removes his fingers and points upward. "A nice lady's gonna read to me and my friends! Do you wanna come too?"

Whoever this lady is, she's probably going to read some baby book about the alphabet or something. But, Bub looks so excited that I find myself saying yes. Hey, I can spare a few minutes. Though, my soreness is already fading - thank the Ancients for fast healing - so I'll probably take off soon. I don't want to stay here too long, especially since Eileen wants to show me where her lair is. My friends will worry if I'm not home by dark.

(My parents won't.)

I store the books in pocketspace, and Bub leads me to a corner on the second floor. It turns out that Eileen is the nice lady and Cujo and Cornelius are the friends.

Eileen is sitting on the hardwood floor with her back against the corner of the wall. There is a children's book in her hand, and she looks up from it and gives me an amused grin. "I see I'm not the only one who got roped into this."

I return the look and turn my tail back into legs as I sit cross-legged in front of her. "I see I'm not the only one who caved."

"Storytime!" Bub shouts as he sits down beside me, regaining his own legs.

On my other side, Cornelius smiles shyly at me. I give him a playful tug on the horn, and he giggles. Cujo had been sitting beside the little demon, but now he leaps into my lap and makes himself comfortable.

"Okay," Eileen says. "If everyone's present - and everyone over the age of three can tolerate it - it's time to read," she shows off the book's cover, which depicts a green anthropomorphic rabbit-ghost holding a picnic basket, "'Mr. Bunny's Picnic!'"

The kids cheer. I shake my head with a tolerant grin. Cujo is already starting to doze off.

Eileen reads animatedly, showing off the pictures and putting in the right inflections for the narration and making up silly voices for the characters. I imagine she was a preschool teacher during at least one of her past human personas. Bub and Cornelius are hooked on the story and giggling like crazy. Even I'm amused, though mostly by the kids' reactions.

The whole scene is so mundane, so ordinary, so human.

Mom and Dad need to see this side of ghostkind, see that we truly aren't that different from humans. We laugh and cry and read goofy stories to toddlers. We help each other tend to our wounds. We have personalities beyond "kill all humans." Most of us leave humans alone if they leave us alone.

When the story's over and Mr. Bunny gets to have his picnic with all his spectral animal friends, I clap along with the kids. Not because I liked the story - I'd completely tuned it out - but because I feel a new sense of determination.

I have to show Mom and Dad that goodness exists among ghostkind. I've been trying to show that since our existence became public knowledge, and they've always been too blind to see it. But, I'll make them see it. One way or another.

For all of us.


Remember when I said this would be a one-shot? Remember when I then said it would be a two-shot? Me either. :P

One more part! One more part, and then I swear we're done!