A/N:

So Phantom Planet didn't happen, and the world isn't outwardly aware that ghosts are a thing. Danny has gone to college (he's ~19 and Dani is ~17), but Val voluntarily remained in Amity Park to take care of the ghosts in the most haunted city in the world.

There's a brief cameo of an OC of mine. Shae hardly plays any role at all, but I feel like Danny would meet a bunch more ghosts during high school and, later, college.

Dani hummed as she wandered Barcelona, holding the straps to her backpack and taking in the sights. It wasn't her first time in Spain – wasn't even her first time in Barcelona – but it was still fun. She happily munched on an empanada she'd picked up from a stall and took a selfie in front of the Sagrada Familia church.

But there was something amiss, a sourness that turned the empanada bitter in her mouth. She glanced around and saw that no one else seemed to be bothered. Something spiritually foul was pinging on her senses. Dani surreptitiously sniffed the air and began heading northeast along the Avinguda Diagonal, tracking the feeling. She became alarmed as one mile passed, then two without coming across the source of the disturbance. Her senses weren't as powerful as Danny's – she could only comfortably stretch her senses to about a half mile – but that she'd been able to sense something from such a distance was disturbing. Beyond that, the sick, unsettling feeling became more pronounced the further she walked. Finally, she found what she was looking for, feeling nauseous.

It was basic ghost lore that ghosts had obsessions for something. Sometimes that something was a place or a person, which resulted in a haunting. The normal size for a location haunting was about the size of an urban house.

But this.

It was an entire convention center.

And it was swamped in some of the most putrid, malevolent ectoplasmic energy she'd ever run across.

Dani swallowed. There was a powerful ghost in this place. From the smell of things, it had been in the human world for centuries.

Dani had run across many, many ghosts with all kinds of obsessions in her travels, helping them to either reach the Ghost Zone or to move on. She knew what this kind of energy meant.

People had been killed by this ghost. A lot of people, by the feel of the place. This ghost had been killing and growing in power for a long time. And since she hadn't sensed it the last time she'd been in Barcelona, it wasn't necessarily tied to the convention center, which made it more dangerous.

If she didn't do anything, there would be more deaths.

But this wasn't something she could tackle on her own.

She shakily grabbed her phone from her pocket without taking her eyes off the convention center and dialed a number she knew by heart. "Danny, we've got a big problem…"

Danny flew out the next day, packing as much Fentontech as he could possibly get through airport security (airplanes were faster than he was for the time being). Valerie stayed behind to keep an eye on Amity and to make excuses for Danny missing his classes, which Sam and Tucker helped with, even though they were several states away at colleges of their own.

Despite the airport being on the southern side of the city, several miles away from the convention center, Danny was able to taste a hint of foulness in the air the second the airplane touched down.

"Ugh," he said when he met Dani in the airport. "You weren't kidding about this ghost being a bad one."

"You can sense it this far out?" Dani asked incredulously.

Danny grimaced. "Yeah. How far away are we?"

"Over ten miles. I can't feel anything this far away."

"Damn, that's one strong ghost," Danny said. "This is going to be a messy hunt. Where are we staying?"

"We're sleeping on the streets, like I normally do."

"Dani."

"Kidding! I managed to get us a room at the Prince Hotel, near the convention center. There must be some event going on; they were almost fully booked. Tell Sam thanks for letting us use her credit card."

Instead of transforming and flying to their hotel – which would likely draw the ghost's attention to them, which would be a bad idea for the time being, as rushing headfirst to deal with a ghost this powerful would only result in casualties – they hailed a taxi and spent the ride to the hotel in silence. As they approached their destination, the heavy malevolence of the ghost pressed in on them.

Danny bit his lip as they stood in front of the hotel, casting a glance over his shoulder at the nearby convention center. For Danny, whose senses were sharper than Dani's, the miasma felt stifling. "I don't think we can rehabilitate this one," he said, feeling the words settle in the air around them like a dense cloak. "There are too many people dead."

Dani sighed softly, sadly. "I was afraid of that. You brought a Fenton Devastator?"

Danny nodded. "Two of them. Let's go check in," he said, not wanting to think about what they were going to have to do in the coming days.

They found out from the attendant at the front desk that the Prince Hotel was almost fully booked because of a figure skating event, the Grand Prix Final. After some research on their smartphones, they found that the Grand Prix would take place in the same convention center that was currently haunted.

Danny didn't think this was a coincidence. Dani didn't think so, either.

So the ghost they were after had some sort of obsession that had to do with figure skating. For more information, though, they'd have to actually explore the convention center. Danny shuddered at the thought of stepping into another malicious ghost's lair. They'd have to wear suppressors to conceal their cores from the ghost while they were exploring, otherwise they'd risk starting a fight when they were unprepared and disadvantaged.

Danny and Dani headed up to their room, a simple suite with two queen beds. Once they'd settled in, Danny took the two suitcases he'd brought and opened them.

There were hardly any of the normal travel amenities inside. It was mostly ghost hunting tech, carefully disguised as everyday objects like most Fentontech was.

"I'm glad you brought all this stuff," Dani said, sorting through the weaponry and containment devices. "I think we're going to need it."

It was the day before the Grand Prix Final. Danny and Dani had spent several days sneaking in and out of the convention center, trying to find the ghost in an attempt to deal with it before the skating competition. But once they were immersed in the ghost's aura, it was impossible to track its precise location in the venue. They had to wait for it to make a move. And make a move, it would – research into the Grand Prix Final revealed that there was a long string of mysteriously unresolved missing persons cases associated with the event, no doubt the work of their murderous friend. It put both halfas on edge, not knowing what this ghost was waiting for.

Their plan for dealing with the ghost was simple enough – lure it to a central location (like the rink), contain it using a modified ghost shield, and wear it down enough for Danny to use a Fenton Devastator. If the ghost only showed itself in the middle of an international sporting event, then… well, things would be a bit trickier. Plus, they had to plan for the possibility that the ghost could take the entire stadium hostage before they could trap it with their ghost shield.

They'd also put some research time into finding out all they could about the Grand Prix Final. As such, they knew the names and faces of both the junior and senior competitors and their coaches. It was an extensive, exhausting list, but they needed to know the names and faces of the people the ghost would likely pay the most attention to.

It turned out that a bunch of the competitors were staying in the Prince Hotel, too.

"Huh? What are you looking at?" a short blonde competitor snarled – Yuri Plisetsky. Dani blinked. She hadn't realized she'd been staring while she'd been thinking about who the ghost could target.

"Yurio, be nice to your fans!" Viktor Nikiforov said, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

Yuri made a noise somewhere between a squawk and a growl as he ducked out from under Viktor's arm.

"Aww, are you shy? Here, they're not too scary, I'll show you—"

And that was how Dani found herself getting selfies with Yuri Plisetsky, Viktor Nikiforov, Yuuri Katsuki (who'd been trailing after his coach), and Christophe Giacometti (who'd seen the commotion and was determined to embarrass someone).

It's nice, Dani thought morosely, that they can be so carefree, with no idea of the danger they're in.

"I'm sorry, did you not want pictures?" said a soft-spoken voice next to her. It was Katsuki – the other three men were roughhousing in the background.

"Oh, no, it's fine. I was just… thinking."

"They can be a little overwhelming, can't they?" Katsuki laughed.

"A bit," Dani said, smiling in spite of herself. "Good luck in the Grand Prix."

"A-ha, thank you…"

"So, who do think it'll be this year?" Phichit said cheerfully, taking a sip of his drink.

"Noo, don't be creepy," Yuuri complained.

"What's this?" Viktor said, eyes sparkling.

Phichit beamed. Skating gossip was his turf. "Well, they say at least one person goes missing each year at the Grand Prix Finals, usually someone from the stands, though one year it was a judge. Every year there's a new one, like clockwork. A bit creepy, don't you think?"

"Hmm, scary," Viktor said in a faux-nervous voice.

"Come on, there's no evidence to suggest that any of those disappearances are related, other than that all the victims attended the Grand Prix," Yuuri complained.

"Still though, you've got to admit there's something going on," Phichit said.

"Psh," Yuri said. "Who believes in stupid ghost stories nowadays?"

Later, as dinner moved on to other, more lighthearted topics – like the banquet at the Sochi Grand Prix – the thought that the Grand Prix could be haunted or cursed completely slipped from everyone's minds.

Yuuri would look back at this dinner after the Barcelona Grand Prix and think that they all really should have paid more attention to Phichit.

The competition started without a hitch. The ghost only seemed interested in the senior men's skating, for some reason – not the ladies', or the pairs, or any of the juniors.

Danny and Dani were finally able to figure out what the center of the ghost's obsession was, after observing Yuuri Katsuki's short program. The ghost's attention was laser focused on Viktor Nikiforov, who, after a quick Google search, appeared to be a five-time world champion taking the season off to coach Katsuki.

"Why him, though?" Dani hissed as they watched from the stands. "He's nowhere near old enough to be this ghost's only obsession."

Danny hummed thoughtfully. "I have heard of ghost's obsessions shifting if the object of their original obsession is no more. Maybe this one focuses on skating legends – or just highly skilled skaters, in general."

The ghost's malevolence ratcheted up following Yuri Plisetsky's record-breaking short program. The two halfas tensed in their seats, about to spring up and begin engaging the ghost, when it quieted again, obviously waiting for something. It was disconcerting. Not many ghosts had this kind of patience.

To Danny's and Dani's confusion, the ghost seemed to be content to wait until the next day of the competition. For what, however, they didn't know.

She could barely remember strapping bones to her boots to glide across the ice. She remembered with a little more clarity slipping and cracking her head against the ice – a bloom of pain, then a black emptiness that twisted her into something new, then waking up over a frozen lake.

She remembered drifting for a while before a group of laughing children came to the lake with bone-skates to play. She was suddenly, abruptly ravenous, and she fed off the nutritious miasma of emotion the children were emitting.

It was a few years (decades, maybe? time no longer held the same meaning as it once did; she only paid attention to the freezing and thawing cycles) before there was another fatality on the ice, this time a middle-aged man. She was drawn irresistibly to the body, and before she knew it, she was devouring the man's twinkling life force as it escaped the mortal shell.

It was delicious. It was a startling power boost, too, her entire body humming.

She had to feel that again. So the next time skaters stepped onto the ice, she showed herself and killed one, claws digging into a soft neck.

Skaters stopped coming to her lake; her only visitor was a shaman who attempted to banish her. His charms and herbs stung, but she was bolstered by the life force she'd devoured, and she eventually won out over him. But skaters still weren't coming for her to feed on. So she moved lakes. Ice skating was her center, after all, not the lake itself. So wherever there were many skaters, there she was, ready to feed and grow.

She learned to be wily, to choose her victims quietly and to drain their life after they had been carefully lured into seclusion or killed in an unfortunate accident. As she killed, she grew more powerful, allowing her to force the lake to stay frozen for longer than it should have, inviting skaters further and further into the summer months. She had to move lakes a few more times before she figured out that the optimal amount of feeding to allow her to stay hidden was one human per freeze/thaw cycle.

Soon, the humans began ice skating in earnest, attaching metal to their feet that cut into the ice instead of merely gliding along its surface. She was fascinated by the advancement. And when the humans began competing to see who could skate best, she knew she had to choose only the juiciest skaters and fans to consume, the ones who experienced the highest highs while skating. She quickly figured out, though, that to keep her presence a secret, she should stay away from the high-profile skaters, no matter how delicious they smelled.

She started following the informal competitions and learned the names of the most promising skaters. She only went after them after they were sidelined by age or injury, and even then, she kept her meals scattered spatially to prevent the humans from suspecting anything. She didn't want another unpleasant run-in with a shaman, no matter that her last encounter had ended in her favor.

She haunted the Worlds venue, the first international skating competition ever. She switched to feeding at the Grand Prix Finals when the competition was established almost a century later. By now, her power and influence had grown monstrous, driving away all lesser spirits on her hunting grounds.

Her current obsession was a human named Viktor Nikiforov. A five-time world champion and a breathtaking skater, he had more than garnered her interest.

But then Yuuri Katsuki had taken him away from skating competitively, and from her. She would never forgive that.

But caution won out over vengeance, and she settled for watching and waiting for an opportunity to covertly kill Katsuki. It didn't hurt that Viktor was at the competition, too, and she passed the time by ogling him.

Her resolve was tested when her beloved Viktor's short program record was broken by Yuri Plisetsky. She held onto her temper by her long fingernails.

But her self-control shattered as she watched Katsuki skate his free skate.

She had centuries of experience scoring competitive skating, and even though the rules and scoring guidelines kept changing, she was generally aware of how the scoring system worked. If Katsuki skated his free skate perfectly, he'd shatter her beloved Viktor's other record.

And that was unacceptable.

She came out of hiding and allowed her presence to settle into the rink, bringing the venue under her control. If a human set foot on her ice, they'd be completely under her command.

This wasn't a power she used often. But for Yuuri Katsuki, she'd make an exception. She wanted his death to be as physically painful as possible.

Danny and Dani felt the shift in the ghost's attention as soon as Yuuri Katsuki began his free skate. The ghost was concentrating on the rink, wrapping itself around the skater and through the ice, making the rink treacherous for any human skating on it. It closed and sealed the gates leading onto the rink, as well as the doors leading into the arena. The ghost had trapped the entire audience, as they'd feared. They only had a limited time to act. Luckily, the ghost had done half their job for them, concentrating itself into a central location where it could be trapped.

Danny nodded, and Dani took off, holding the four poles of the Fenton Ward. It was tricky to set up in the middle of a fight and needed a ghost to power it, but Dani was confident she'd be able to set up the Fenton's most powerful shield yet, capable of blocking both ghosts and humans but programmable with genetic and ecto signatures to allow individuals through, before Danny was forced to intervene. Disguised in form-concealing clothes, she made it down to the boards and ran around the rink, stabbing a pole straight into the concrete with her ghostly strength in the west.

Dani could feel the attention of the ghost momentarily shift to her. She shuddered as she felt the heavy weight of a predator's gaze zero in on her and hoped that the suppressor for her core was doing its job correctly. Finally, deeming her uninteresting, the ghost took its eyes off of her and returned to watching Katsuki like a hungry bear.

As focused as the audience was on Katsuki, they didn't notice Dani running around the rink and driving another pole into the concrete in the south.

Please, let me make it in time, Dani pleaded as Katsuki's free skate ended and she positioned the third pole in the east.

The malevolence in the ghost surged and swam around Katsuki. The ghost was making its move. Dimly, she was aware of Danny removing his suppressant bracelet and making his way down to the boards, ready to intervene. The ghost was momentarily distracted by another ghost in its space, especially once Danny formed skates on his shoes made of ice, but it decided to gleefully go ahead and start manipulating Katsuki anyway.

It was totally underestimating them. Dani couldn't decide whether to be insulted or relieved for the opening.

She made it to the north just as that idiot Nikiforov decided to try to jump over the boards onto cursed ice. Dani yanked him back before aligning the final pole, removing her own suppressant bracelet, and wrapping her hands around the pole, ready to transform and pour her energy into the Ward the instant Danny had its undivided attention.

The final echoing strains of Yuuri on Ice sounded and Yuuri slid into his ending position, one hand pointing at Viktor. He'd skated his routine perfectly. It hadn't sunk in yet, the elation not quite hitting him.

He hadn't even relaxed from the final pose when a strange chill creeped into his limbs, cooling the sweat on his skin. Yuuri didn't think much of it until he tried to move.

He couldn't. His eyes widened and he managed a whimper before he fell still, icy fingers digging into his sides.

What? he thought before a shroud fell over his mind, numbing him to the world. He watched blearily as his tired limbs moved without his instruction and he switched positions into an unfamiliar pose. Then he began to skate, dancing to music only he could hear.

"What is that moron doing?" Yuri breathed in horror as Yuuri started skating again. How did he even have the stamina to keep going like he did?

Viktor clenched his hands into fists and bit his lip. Something was very badly wrong – but what? What could possibly prompt Yuuri to risk disqualification? Or worse, injury? His body wouldn't hold up forever under such strain. What was he trying to say?

"Uh, Yuuri Katsuki has continued skating competitively even though his music has ended. If he keeps skating past the fifteen second mark, he'll be disqualified," the announcer said, sounding bewildered.

Viktor didn't blame him. He couldn't understand Yuuri's actions at all, either.

"Oi! Katsudon! What the fuck do you think you're doing?! Are you trying to lose?!" Yuri roared from the stands. Viktor couldn't believe Yuri would risk disqualification himself – attempting to disrupt another skater's routine was punishable by disqualification – to try to get through to Yuuri. Yuuri gave no sign he'd heard anything.

The fifteen second mark crept closer, and Yuuri kept skating.

Viktor felt like choking. All their work, and it was going down the drain before his eyes, and he didn't even know why. He gripped the gold ring on his finger harshly.

There were still a few seconds. If he didn't attempt to verbally help his student before then (which would also result in Yuuri's disqualification), there was still a slim chance Yuuri would stop.

Yuuri leapt into a perfect quad toeloop just as the fifteen seconds passed.

"A fifth quad from Katsuki. What does he have planned? It doesn't look like his coach knows either. He has disqualified himself now," the announcer said disbelievingly.

Viktor gave into the urge to cry and sprinted to a gate, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Yuuri! Stop! What are you doing?" Viktor called desperately.

He made it to the closest gate, the one Yuuri had entered the ice on, only to find it closed and locked. Strange, part of him noted, while he attempted to open the gate, switching his gaze between his efforts and his student, who was still skating frenetically.

There was nothing alluring about this dance, nothing seductive. It was all energy and angry movement, a sharp performance meant to intimidate the audience. After giving such a stunning, high-energy performance in his free skate, Viktor just couldn't understand how Yuuri could keep going in such a way, the step sequences crisp and the jumps flawless. High stamina or not, it just didn't seem possible.

Viktor gave up on trying to unlock the gate and was just about to jump over the boards to get to Yuuri when a gloved hand closed on his arm and yanked him back. He went sprawling into Yakov and Yuri, who had hurried down to the boards to see what was happening. Behind them were Christophe, Phichit, and Celestino. Hovering some ways back farther was a small team of medics, who were waiting for Yuuri to get off the ice to check for injuries. Viktor also noted that the closest cameras were trained on him.

He probably looked like a mess, teary and frantic. Viktor could care less.

Viktor scrambled to get back to his feet. In front of the gate was the person who had all but thrown him to the side to land on Yuri and Yakov (the former had already jerked to his feet and the latter was still on the ground, grumbling and being helped up by Phichit and Celestino). They were on the shorter side, but all distinguishing features were covered by a bulky jacket with a face mask that concealed their face below the eyes and a hood that covered their hair. The person was wearing baggy sweatpants and tennis shoes that wouldn't have looked out of place on half of the athletes in the rink. Their arms were extended in front of them, gripping a green and silver staff that looked like it had somehow been driven straight through the concrete.

Before Viktor could make it back to the boards, the announcer said, "What's this? An unknown skater has jumped over the boards and is streaking towards Katsuki!" Another figure in similarly form-concealing clothes was, indeed, skating quickly towards Yuuri from the opposite side of the rink, hunched over and furiously stroking forward. Viktor's heart leapt into his throat. A collision looked to be inevitable, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"YUURI!"

What is happening, Yuuri thought hazily as his body moved, a frantic and angry melody echoing in his head. Am I skating?

He distantly felt the impact of a quad ripple through his body, which gave a token protest before it was forced to keep moving.

Yuuri tried to feel alarmed about this but found he couldn't feel much of anything beyond the cold of the rink stinging his cheeks and the strain of his tired body as it was forced past its limits.

As he transitioned into a scratch spin, pulling his arms and legs in close, he saw a blur barreling across the ice towards him. No, don't come this way, he thought hazily. I'll hit you with my skates.

"YUURI!"

Viktor?

There was a jarring impact as the blur collided with him and sent them both skidding across the ice. Yuuri felt arms like vices clamp around his torso before he was bodily lifted from the ice.

Sensation came rushing back as the melody in his head was abruptly cut off. The labored breaths and pain in his lungs, the screaming of his overworked muscles, the chittering of the crowd, the feeling of being hauled across the ice. And, most of all, the spasming of his limbs as he involuntarily struggled against his captor, trying to continue his dance across the ice.

Yuuri would have screamed in fright if he had the breath. As it was, he managed some panicked, choked whimpers. He couldn't control his flailing body, no matter how much it hurt to move, and he was being carted across the ice towards the boards way too fast. They were going to hit the boards if his captor (rescuer?) didn't slow down, which they didn't seem inclined to do. Yuuri could only watch in horror as the boards approached – and then he was looking back at the rink.

What?

There was a jarring impact along his back, and he saw the ceiling for a split second before there was a second impact. Later, Yuuri would see on tape that his captor had jumped straight over the boards, almost ten feet in the air somehow, rotated to take the hit against the nearby wall, and then rotated again so that Yuuri landed on top of them.

Yuuri could barely breathe, and his vision was swimming. His heart felt like it was working too hard, too fast, and he was distantly aware that he was furiously struggling to get away from the person who had separated him from the rink.

He was flipped over so his face was pressed into the concrete and felt a solid, unyielding weight above him keeping him pinned in place. That didn't stop his traitorous body from bucking and trying the wriggle out of the hold. There was a click, something snapping around his wrist, an echoing scream in his head –

And it stopped.

Yuuri collapsed to the concrete, choking on his breath and trying to keep from passing out. His body was gloriously still and – as he found out by twitching his fingers – back under his control again. Heat leached from his body into the cool concrete as the weight above him vanished. Moments later, someone was pulling him into their arms, running a hand over his sweaty hair and clasping one of his hands in the other.

"Yuuri, Yuuri," the person said, chanting his name like a prayer. It sounded like Viktor. Yuuri struggled to focus on silver hair and terrified blue eyes.

"Vik… tor…" he said, choking on his dry throat. He struggled to tighten his grip on the hand holding his. Something that sounded distinctly like a sob emerged from Viktor's throat.

Yuuri didn't know what had happened. All he knew was that Viktor was holding him, and Yurio and Phichit were kneeling in front of him, looking scared, and there were soothing hands running down his trembling limbs. He sobbed, the fear of being out of control catching up with him, and he leaned back against Viktor, seeking comfort.

Sometime later, a water bottle was presented to him, and he drank greedily, stopping only to catch his breath. Everything was sore, but he was feeling leagues better for rehydrating. He pushed against Viktor and achingly sat up, wiping at his forehead. He could feel Viktor's grip on his hand tighten. Phichit still looked concerned, but Yurio had gotten over his fear and looked ready to murder him.

"The fuck was that, Katsuki?" Yuri snarled, pointing toward the rink. "You got yourself disqualified! How am I supposed to compete against you properly if you pull a stupid-ass stunt like that, huh?"

"Disqualified?" Yuuri repeated, feeling like someone had stopped his heart.

"Yes, disqualified, you absolute fucking moron, what did you think would happen if you kept skating after your program—"

Yuuri choked, feeling numb. He was trembling. He barely recognized his own voice when he said, "Is that what happened?"

He heard Viktor's breath catch behind him and Yurio gaped at him incredulously.

"Yuuri, what is that supposed to mean?" Phichit asked, gripping his calf tightly and suddenly looking scared. "Do you not know what happened?"

Yuuri felt like curling up in Viktor's arms until the world started making sense again, but he forced himself to answer, feeling detached. "I remember ending my free skate. And then… there was music playing in my head, but I don't remember skating to it."

Phichit was clearly fighting to stay calm. "Anything else?"

Yuuri forced himself to think back to that feeling of fuzziness. "Someone slammed into me. That's about all I remember before I was off the rink…" Yuuri swallowed, feeling sick. "What happened then?"

Yurio and Phichit clearly exchanged a look, clearly debating whether Yuuri was stable enough to be told anything, when a hand carded through his hair and Viktor released a shuddering sigh. "Okay. Something's definitely wrong," he said, sounding scared and broken.

Yuuri swallowed. His friends were looking at him like he was something fragile and breakable, and he'd somehow hurt Viktor terribly. But not knowing what was happening on the ice was killing him. He had to know.

"Please tell me," Yuuri said, feeling like the scum of the earth.

Phichit and Yurio exchanged another look before Phichit said, "Um, the guy who got you off the ice has been skating around the rink nonstop. Security hasn't intervened yet, for some reason."

"It's like they've been stymied by closed doors," Yuri scoffed, jerking with his head to a set of doors that led back to the locker rooms. Yuuri turned his head to look, and the doors were indeed closed.

"That's weird," Yuuri murmured, mostly to himself.

"Speaking of weird, what's that bulky thing on your wrist?" Phichit asked, pointing, clearly trying to change the subject. Yuuri held up his arm and saw that a bracelet had been attached by someone. It was donut-shaped, silver with neon green circuitry.

"I don't know," Yuuri said, fiddling with it. It wouldn't slip up or down his arm, and he couldn't find a clasp. For the time being, it seemed it was well and truly stuck on his arm.

"Come on," Viktor said. It sounded like he'd been crying. "Let's get you looked at by the rinkside medics."

"Okay."

Yuuri winced as Phichit and Viktor helped him to his protesting feet. (Yuuri idly noted that someone had put his skate guards back on.) Viktor slung an arm over his shoulder and took Yuuri's weight.

"It looks like Katsuki's back on his feet!" the announcer said. "We don't know why he did what he did yet—"

Yuuri tuned out the rest of the announcer's speech as a cold realization washed over him and froze him in his tracks. This was the Grand Prix. Whatever had happened had been witnessed by millions of people live, from multiple angles. Worse, his old coach and Yakov and Christophe were there, looking either concerned or disgusted. And worst, his parents and his friends – all the people cheering for him back home – had seen that. Yuuri felt his throat clog as the shame threatened to floor him.

"None of that," Viktor murmured in his ear. "Don't think about the audience. Let's just get you to the medics."

Yuuri let out a shaky breath. "Yes. Okay."

They barely got two steps before the announcer said, "What on earth—!"

Yuuri turned his head just in time to see the heavily clothed figure who had gotten him off the ice jump straight up from the center of the rink. They didn't jump up one foot, or two feet, or three feet, or even ten feet, which they'd somehow managed to get Yuuri off the ice. No, they jumped over eighty feet into the air, scraping the ceiling of the arena with their feet as they backflipped. Yuuri felt his jaw drop.

Then there was a flash of light surrounding the figure that forced Yuuri to look away, and by the time he looked back, he only saw a blur of white and black as the figure rocketed towards the ground. The figure landed with a bone-jarring crash, the ice of the rink splintering under their feet until the entire rink was spiderwebbed with cracks.

"The fuck…?" Yuuri heard Yuri say. Yuuri could hardly believe it himself – wouldn't have believed it, had he not witnessed it with his own eyes.

The white-haired figure stood from where he'd been crouching. Somehow, he'd lost the concealing jacket and sweatpants, and was dressed in a black and white, form-fitting jumpsuit. He looked, from a distance, to be older than Yurio but younger than Yuuri. He – for the figure definitely looked like a he, now – crossed his arms, as though he was waiting for something.

He didn't have to wait for long. A glass-shattering shriek echoed through the arena, and Yuuri felt as if gravity had suddenly doubled for a brief moment. He struggled to stay on his feet, and it felt like his ears were trying to vibrate right off his head.

Then, before his disbelieving eyes, a second figure rose from the ice.

Now, Dani thought as the ghost showed itself, provoked by Danny's actions. She let herself die, transforming into her ghostly alter ego, and poured energy into the Ward. The four poles she'd planted gleamed before a green dome formed above the rink, trapping the ghost and forcibly removing its influence from the rest of the convention center.

There was a second, furious scream as the ghost realized it had been tricked. It streaked to where Dani was standing and slammed against the barrier, snarling. Dani heard several frightened screams behind her. Up close, Dani could see that the ghost looked feminine, with long black hair and a shapely figure under a flowing gray dress. Her eyes were pitch black with tiny blue pinpoints of light, and her lips were curled back in a snarl to reveal pointed teeth. She looked like she was entirely made of ice, her skin a pale blue, with long claws extending from her fingertips to rake against the Ward. Dani winced as she felt the Ward's drain as it compensated for the damage the ghost was doing.

Two white-gloved hands gripped the ghost's shoulders. "Hey, you didn't forget about me, did you?" Danny said lightheartedly as he yanked the ghost away from the barrier and flung her into the center of the rink.

"The fuck is happening?" Yuri sputtered, staring at the damaged rink in aghast confusion.

Yuuri understood the sentiment. He'd almost passed out when the female horror had appeared almost right in front of them, stopped only by a transparent green shield.

Two… Yuuri wasn't sure what they were, because they sure weren't human – things were battling in the middle of the rink. One was fighting with green lasers; the other was fighting with what looked like giant icicles. The one with the icicles looked like it was winning, but the one with the lasers wasn't giving up. Yuuri could barely make out what was happening; the combatants were moving so fast.

"Two, uh, beings are fighting in the rink," the announcer said shakily, background noise against the sounds of the fight. "We have no idea what they are or why they're here, but they appear to be hostile. It would probably be best if we all evacuated," he finished.

A few moments passed before the announcer spoke again, noticeably squeaky and scared. "Um, it appears all the doors leading out of the stadium have been closed and sealed, and cell reception has been cut off. Um, please shelter as best you can in your seats…"

Yuuri could see an immediate uproar and panic in the crowd. Some people headed straight for the doors, trying to pry them open, while others cowered in the stands, using the seats in front of them as a shield. There was general chaos, and Yuuri hoped no one would be hurt.

"Hey, this stupid thing is jammed shut!" Yuri shouted, attempting to heave the closest doors out of the rink open. Well, that confirmed that they were all stuck here.

"Hey, you! You know what's happening, don't you?" Yuuri heard Christophe say. He tore his eyes from the spectacle in front of him to see another one of the… creatures… standing in front of a tall, glowing, metal pole, gripping it tightly in both hands. She looked human enough, if one ignored the slight glow around her and her inhuman green eyes. Christophe was firmly grasping one of her arms.

"Look, buddy, I'm maintaining the barrier that's keeping everyone safe. If you want to die, be my guest, but otherwise, don't mess with me or the equipment," she snapped.

Christophe reared back, stung.

Viktor's hold on Yuuri tightened as he automatically lashed out from the brusque dismissal of his friend. "You've interrupted – no, ruined – this Grand Prix Final. You can damn well spare some time to explain yourself. Who are you? What are you? And why are you here?"

"Name's Danielle Phantom. My brother Danny is fighting in the rink," she said distantly, only half of her focus on answering their questions. "I'm a ghost. We're trying to keep the other ghost from killing anyone else."

"Ghosts?" Christophe squeaked.

"Anyone else...?" Celestino echoed.

Phichit, meanwhile, focused sharply on the female Phantom and made an intuitive leap. "You mean all the disappearances at the previous Grand Prix Finals were actually this ghost killing and eating people?"

"Not necessarily eating them, but yes," Phantom said. "You're taking this remarkably well."

"Ghosts are pretty prevalent in Thai culture, so it's not too big of a surprise for me that ghosts exist. I think everyone else is in shock, though," Phichit explained cheerfully.

Yuuri winced as the male Phantom was forcefully thrown through the shield his sister had erected and impacted harshly with the wall, cracking it. The other ghost attempted to follow him but was stopped short by the barrier. She screeched angrily and raked her claws across the shield before turning to stare disconcertingly at Viktor.

It wasn't terribly comforting to know that the only thing keeping the other ghost from tearing them all to bits was a transparent, selectively passable barrier. Thankfully, Phantom quickly recovered from smashing into the wall and tackled her back into the center of the rink, away from the shield.

"This just in," the announcer said, sounding like a news reporter. "We're witnessing a fight between two ghosts, an unknown aggressor and Danny Phantom. His sister is by the boards, maintaining a shield to keep the ghost contained. I know it sounds crazy, but that's what's happening…"

There was an uproar from the crowd as everyone processed what the announcer had just said. It was unbelievable, but they couldn't deny what was happening in front of their own eyes. There was some fearful shouting, a lot of cowering behind the stands, and a couple of cheers from the more adaptable individuals.

"Wait. If all this is really happening, then… what happened to Yuuri?" Phichit asked.

"You mean you don't think he did what he did on purpose?" Yuri said.

"Definitely not," Phantom confirmed. "The ghost overshadowed him. Took control of his body. Pretty sure she was trying to kill him."

Viktor's grip on Yuuri's shoulders tightened like a vice. "What do you mean?"

"The ghost was trying to force Katsuki past his limits to the point of physical injury. His muscles and ligaments would have torn, and still she'd have forced him to keep skating through the pain. Eventually, the strain would stop his heart. Not a nice way to go," Phantom explained.

Viktor made a pained noise and embraced Yuuri possessively from behind, wrapping his arms around the other skater. Yuuri felt the icy tendrils of panic creep up his spine and choke him.

"She can't do that now, right?" Viktor demanded.

"No. That bracelet removed her influence and keeps him from further harm from her," Phantom said, glancing towards Yuuri's arm.

Yuuri could hardly believe what he was hearing. Without the two Phantoms, he would have died.

"Breathe in, breathe out, Yuuri," Viktor murmured against his neck, having recognized the symptoms of a panic attack. "I'll keep you safe."

Yuuri fought to relax into Viktor's hold. The words were soothing, but being out of control – being almost killed – had left him deeply unsettled.

He watched the fight in something of a daze. He was drawing strength from Viktor's presence, but the bracelet that kept him safe was an ever-present reminder of how close he'd come to being killed. Yuuri tried to ground himself with Viktor's touch and wound up seeing a pattern in the fight, instead.

There was a certain synchronization of both combatants' movements – attack, block, counter, dodge – that was reminiscent of a pair skate, except both parties were trying to maim each other. A certain fluid, expressive grace encapsulated each of the female ghost's movements, while Phantom was more economical. It was like watching two people dance – their forms harmonized despite the different styles.

But Phantom was losing. Yuuri could see it in the way it took longer and longer for him to recover from being thrown around, could see it in the way his attacks became weaker and more desperate, could see it in the way he had more and more trouble blocking or dodging the ghost's attacks. Yuuri felt his breath catch in his throat at the realization. People (including him) would die if Phantom didn't win. But what could he do?

Before he realized what he was doing, Yuuri cupped his hands around his mouth. "Go, Phantom! You can win!" he yelled.

There was a moment of silence before Christophe chimed in, "Kick her ass! You can do it!"

And Viktor called, "We believe in you!"

At the sound of Viktor's voice, the female ghost paused for a split second, staring at Viktor in betrayal. Phantom took that opportunity to attack, snapping something around her neck.

The murderous ghost gave a bone chilling screech, hobbling on the ice and clawing at a collar on her neck that hadn't been there before. The male Phantom redoubled his attack, sending the ghost skidding across the ice to crash into the barrier. The two ghosts began to ferociously battle again, but this time, Yuuri could see that they were more evenly matched, especially now that Phantom had pulled out all the stops, attacking not just with green lasers but also with blistering bolts of electricity and jagged shards of ice. The fight seemed to stretch into infinity, each second feeling like years.

Something had to give. They couldn't keep fighting forever.

As it turned out, the winds blew in Phantom's favor, and he nailed the other ghost in the heart with what looked like a devastating blast of electricity. The other ghost screamed as she was sent flying.

Instead of pressing his advantage, Phantom paused, staring at the other ghost from across the ice. Yuuri blinked, and suddenly Phantom was hobbling by the boards. Within the shield, the rink was completely obscured by a snowstorm.

The ghost gave a hideous smile as Danny panted, ectoplasm dripping from wounds he'd been too slow to avoid. That wasn't to say he hadn't given the ghost a run for her money, either – her hair looked burnt, and small chunks of ice had been carved out of her hide, plus the scorch mark in the middle of her chest where he'd nailed her with his ecto-electricity. With the Fenton Drainer he'd attached to her neck siphoning away her strength, they were about evenly matched, and whoever would win would be whoever could outlast the other. With all the helpful Fentontech attached to his belt, Danny had a feeling he'd be the one to win.

And the ghost had realized this, too.

The ghost's form began glowing brightly, and the Fenton Drainer sparked before snapping off, dead at her feet. Danny stared stupidly at her, trying to figure out what she was doing, before cursing and flying beyond the Ward's boundaries as fast as he could.

He almost didn't make it.

An explosion of foul ectoplasmic energy and shards of ice filled the Ward, nipping at Danny's tail before he made it beyond the Ward. Danny could see the moment the shredding energy impacted with the Ward, as it shuddered under the strain and Dani swayed, struggling to maintain the Ward under the pressure. He landed next to her, ignoring the wide-eyed humans behind her, and grit his teeth.

"Fuck," he said succinctly. He knew what was happening, knew what kind of measure the ghost was implementing – and was helpless to do anything to stop it.

"Care to share with the rest of the class, Danny? For those of us who haven't been studying ghost lore like you have?" Dani asked, strain evident in her voice. Danny could sense that the humans were interested in this answer as well. They were also fairly collected for being caught in the middle of a ghost attack. Danny wondered if Dani had said anything to them.

"Right. Sparknotes version: ghosts have things called lairs, which are created by their energy and are like their homes. They can set up whatever rules they want to in this lair. They usually can't do this in the human world, because the energy cost is far too great, but this one is going ahead and making this space her lair anyway. It's a suicide tactic. She's trying to take down the Ward to kill all of us in one last outburst, or she's going to try to take me out by forcing me to play by her rules," Danny explained.

"And what are her rules?" one of the humans asked. Danny glanced over his shoulder to see that it was Yakov Feltsman who had asked the question.

"That's entirely up to her. I can try to figure out what she's up to…" Danny bit his lip and, before he could change his mind, stuck a finger through the Ward. He almost immediately pulled it out again, cursing at what he'd discerned and nursing the injured finger.

"What is it? What are her rules?" Phichit Chulanont asked.

Danny felt his upper lip curling. "…She's forbidden combat of any kind. The only way to beat her and destroy the lair is to win in figure skating against her."

Dani looked alarmed. "I know you've been learning the Dance of Ice from Frostbite, but this sounds like it's a whole other level of skating. Can you do it?"

Danny gritted his teeth. "I don't think so," he confessed, feeling like the admission cost him dearly. In a sense, it did – they had underestimated this ghost, and if they couldn't find a way to beat her, they might have just consigned an entire stadium of people to death. The situation was dire. "I can fight on ice, but I can't dance on it, not like the competitors here can."

"Then the solution's simple then, isn't it?" Christophe Giacometti said, folding his arms. Danny looked at him in surprise. "Just send one of us out to compete against her. We're the best of the best."

Dani shook her head immediately. "No. A human wouldn't survive in there. The temperature's dropping rapidly. It's already far below freezing. From the looks of things, she's forcing it down to almost absolute zero."

"Ghosts can do that?" Celestino Cialdini gaped.

"She's been feeding off humans for centuries. Her core has to be pretty powerful by now. I'm not terribly surprised a core like hers could do such a thing."

"So what's the plan? You guys have got to have something better than just waiting until the shield collapses," Yuri Plisetsky said harshly.

"Could you get everyone out in time?" Dani asked in ghost-speak so the humans couldn't understand her. (Since everything was still being filmed, her words would be eventually translated, but for the moment, she didn't want to cause a panic.)

Danny grimaced. "No way. At the rate she's developing that lair, even if I did bust open all the doors to let people out, they wouldn't all make it in time before the Ward failed."

"Some are better than none, right? Get to it! Unless you have any better ideas?" Dani snapped.

Danny appeared to be deep in thought, his brow furrowed. "…There might actually be something. A kind of overshadowing that only someone like us could do. Silvana told me it was possible…"

Over the years, Danny had had more than his fair share of injuries from ghost fights. The yeti ghosts of the Far Frozen could only do so much with Danny's unique biology, so they'd directed Danny, Sam, and Tucker to a renowned but extortionate healer ghost named Silvana. She was an ally only because Danny had something special to offer her – stable, undiseased halfa blood that she could study. She was very obviously helping Danny only for her own benefit, but as long as she did her job and didn't sell him out to Plasmius, Danny could care less. She occasionally would show him some of the results of her research, which helped Danny understand himself and his capabilities better. The particular technique Danny was currently thinking of had been nothing more than a thought exercise on her part, but Danny had tried it out with just an arm with Sam, so he knew it worked.

He'd never done it with a full person before, much less one he wasn't familiar with, but it was their best shot at getting everyone out of this clusterfuck alive.

"I need a volunteer, one who can figure skate," Danny said in English, ignoring Dani's incredulous look. Dani and Silvana weren't on the best of terms.

"You've got me," said Christophe Giacometti immediately. "What do you need?"

Danny grimaced. Hopefully the man wouldn't change his mind after he described the technique. "Do you know what overshadowing is? It's like possession. What I need to do takes it several steps further…"

It took a couple minutes of explaining, but Danny knew he'd lost his human audience when the incredulous looks started popping up.

"You expect us to hand over that kind of trust to you, when you got us into this situation in the first place?" Yuri Plisetsky said incredulously.

"If we hadn't intervened, your friend over there would be dead by now," Dani snapped.

"So instead of just one of us, now all of us are at risk. Wonderful," Yakov Feltsman spat.

Phichit looked up sharply. "Hey, they were doing what they thought was best, and I can't blame them for trying to save my best friend's life—!"

"Give me a minute or two to come to terms with what you want me to do," Christophe said, obviously displeased by what Danny was suggesting.

"Don't force yourself," Danny said.

"I'll do it," Viktor Nikiforov said.

Instant uproar.

"Vitya, you can't be serious—"

"You can't—"

"Don't—"

Viktor's voice cut above the din. "That ghost… it wants me, doesn't it? It's looked at me a lot while you were fighting, and that's why it targeted Yuuri…"

Danny sighed. It seemed that Viktor Nikiforov was more observant than he'd given him credit for. "That's the conclusion we reached."

Yuuri Katsuki squeezed Viktor's hand harshly. "But just because it's focused on you doesn't mean that you have to involve yourself like this! Viktor—"

"I've already been involved since the beginning, don't you see?" Viktor said. "Because of me, you were almost killed. I can't— I have to do something."

"If you're going to make a decision, do it fast, because that ghost's almost done building its lair," Dani interrupted.

Viktor slipped his hand from Yuuri's. "Don't worry, solnyshko. I'll come back." Viktor threw his arms around Yuuri for a tight hug before he turned to Danny and stepped forward.

"What do I do?" he asked.

"Hold still," Danny said. Danny circled behind him and stepped into Viktor's space, pressing his chest against Viktor's back. He weaved his fingers through Viktor's and widened his stance so his feet bracketed Viktor's. He rested his head on Viktor's shoulder.

"Last chance to back out," Danny warned as he gripped Viktor's hands tightly.

"Stop asking. I'm ready," Viktor snapped.

"Fine," Danny said before he closed his eyes and transformed back into a human, exceedingly grateful that the feature-hiding clothes he'd donned that day were undamaged, hidden as they had been in his human form. His secret identity was still safe, even though everything was being filmed. He heard some gasps behind him, but didn't turn to look as he allowed himself to turn intangible and slide into Viktor's body.

Viktor closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath as the weight on his back vanished and a chill creeped through his bones. He tried to avoid tensing.

"Viktor?"

Viktor turned and sent a strained smile at Yuuri. "It's not that bad, just strange—" His breath hitched as pins-and-needles crawled down his spine and made themselves at home in his extremities. Then his head started pounding, and he closed his eyes as he automatically fought back against the invading presence.

This isn't going to work if you don't let me in, Phantom warned. Viktor exhaled and focused on ushering in the ghost. It seemed to work, because he felt a presence settle nearby in his mind – close enough to control him, if need be – but it didn't attempt a hostile takeover. Phantom was just content to alter his body.

Cold wrapped its way around his limbs, flowing through his veins and anchoring in his bones. Viktor took a deep breath and found that the warmer air seared his frostbitten lungs.

Okay. Now to transform, Viktor heard Phantom say, mostly to himself. Viktor didn't have time to wonder what that meant when electricity burned through his body, sending his nerves endings on fire. Viktor's breath caught in his throat as he choked on the pain.

Viktor's eyes shot open as his heart stuttered. The last thing he saw was the snowstorm in the rink clearing and the horrified look on the enemy ghost's face, and then his vision went white.

Viktor floated in a pure white space. Distantly, he was aware of his body violently protesting as it was forced to die, but in this space, he felt peaceful. He had nothing to worry about. Phantom knew what he was doing. He'd said so when he'd explained what he would do. Plus, Viktor somehow knew that it was Phantom who was acting as the buffer between his mind and his pain-wracked body. As if conjured, a flickering image of Phantom appeared before him, mimicking some of the words he'd heard only minutes before:

"Overshadowing only affects a person's mind. When a ghost overshadows a person, their body is left intact, just a conduit for the ghost… But what I can do is a lot more… thorough. I'll overshadow you, sure – actually undershadow you, which is when I go into your body and leave you in control… But then I can actually change your human body into a ghost's body… It's a difficult procedure, but I can do it… It's reversible… But you need to be absolutely sure, and you need to trust me with your life…"

No, Viktor didn't want to think about this as he felt another pulse of intense pain from his body. He wanted to think of something soothing. Like the feeling of gliding across the ice, or eating a delicious katsudon, or holding Yuuri and breathing in his scent.

Something golden gleamed on his finger. Viktor lazily held up his hand and saw the gold ring Yuuri had bought for him. Just thinking of the moment made him feel warm and fuzzy, a good distraction from the agony that Phantom was doing his best to shield him from.

Almost done, Phantom whispered. What do you want the costume to look like? You can use white, black, and neon green.

It wouldn't be the first time Viktor designed his own skating costume. With the colors he'd been given and keeping Phantom's jumpsuit in mind, he crafted an image and sent it to Phantom.

Phantom hummed. Not bad, he said. Not bad.

Now, wake up.

Yuuri watched with trepidation as the bright halo surrounding Viktor's body began to dissipate. He vaguely heard muttered oaths from his friends, but his attention was all on Viktor. Viktor was crouched on the ground, his back to the group. Yuuri took the opportunity to study his transformed coach with trepidation. He was expecting Viktor to be visually changed, but the reality of it hadn't quite sunk in until Yuuri was faced with it head-on.

Viktor's beautiful silver hair had lightened several shades to snow white. From what Yuuri could see of his back, Viktor was wearing a jet black, skin tight suit with white streaks spiraling around his limbs, instead of the trench coat and semi-formal clothes he'd been wearing just minutes before. Two more white stripes formed an upside-down V on his back, and covering his torso was neon green glitter that shone like tiny green stars.

Viktor stood and turned slightly, enough that Yuuri could see him staring at a white fingerless-gloved hand, opening and closing his fingers. Then he turned completely to face them. Yuuri couldn't help himself from raking eyes over Viktor's form.

Viktor was still Viktor, in that the contours of his body and face hadn't changed. The black jumpsuit was adorned with a smaller version of the DP symbol at the waist, where a belt would have fallen. Radiating from the symbol were six streaks of white, the middle two curving around back to form the V and the last four spiraling around each limb. The ensemble was completed by white, form-fitting boots, fingerless white gloves, and more neon green glitter.

Yuuri searched Viktor's face. His eyes weren't their usual icy blue – they'd been replaced by Phantom's toxic green orbs. But instead of Phantom's all-business, intense stare, Viktor's face softened into a fond smile at the scrutiny.

"How do you feel?" Yuuri asked breathily, wanting nothing more than to hold Viktor in his arms but unsure if it was okay.

Viktor hummed. "Cold, but it doesn't hurt. I feel light. Colors are a little brighter. I don't think my heart is beating, or that I'm breathing, but it's par for the course, I suppose…"

Yuuri's self-control wasn't that good. He lunged forward to cradle Viktor in his arms. Viktor, instead of smelling like musk and ice – human scents – smelled of ozone and electricity. Viktor's touch was usually cold, but now it felt like ice. It wasn't the most comforting of embraces, but Yuuri would take what he could get.

"I'll be okay, Yuuri. I know what I signed up for—" Viktor began before he was interrupted by a pained cry from the other, female Phantom.

Yuuri jerked away from Viktor when he saw that the enemy ghost, still trapped, was pressed up against the barrier, hateful eyes narrowed in rage. She hissed angrily and drew her claws down the shield, leaving disconcerting glowing streaks behind.

"And that's my cue," Viktor's voice said, except it wasn't Viktor – it was Phantom, reminding them of the danger they were in and what Viktor had to do. Phantom reached down to his boots and lifted his feet one at a time, drawing two fingers in the space below the boots. Skates made of ice materialized, firmly attached to the boots.

Phantom returned control to Viktor for a split second, long enough for Viktor to twine his and Yuuri's fingers together, their rings clinking together, and for Viktor to plant an icy kiss on Yuuri's cheek.

"Da skoraj fstryechi," he murmured. And then he was gone.

A/N:

The music when Yuuri's possessed: Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saens, starting around 0:18.

Yes, I did spend a fair amount of time staring at a map of Barcelona to make sure everything was spatially accurate.

Translations! Solnyshko = little sun, da skoraj fstryechi = see you soon.

So I'm not savvy on the actual technical rules of figure skating. I did my best, but I still had to make up a few rules. Please don't kill me.

This plot bunny has been bothering me for forever and I'm so glad I can finally post it! It should only be three chapters long.

-HM