A/N: I will acknowledge, first off, that this fanfic was inspired by another writer's fanfic which tackled the same topic, yet which seemed to do so in an offensive manner.

On a second note, this is very slightly AU, as the Gregor depicted here is a Gregor who actually was a goth from Hungary, not a loser from Michigan.

Break Me Down

He didn't really know how it had started. Somewhere between school, fighting ghosts, dodging parents, and trying to keep a low profile, it just sort of happened. And then it just kept on happening. Pick any day, add ghosts, teachers, and other assorted worries, let the stress simmer for a bit, and then inevitably came the swift sweep of a blade.

He wasn't proud of it. Not that anyone ever should be. He pushed up his sleeves slightly, and morosely traced one of the faint scars that lay there. Just one of the many that had managed to pile up over the past weeks. Worse yet, spring was coming. In the chill of the winter he had gotten away with long sleeves… but once it warmed up, continuing to wear his long-sleeved shirts would just bring suspicion. Too bad he had never decided to become a goth like Sam.

He sighed and rolled over. Sam. She was so busy these days. And Danny didn't really have any valid excuses for disliking her boyfriend, Gregor, any more. He wasn't with the Guys in White after all (Danny still wasn't crazy about him, though). At least Sam wasn't pissed off at him for spying on her any more, although it seemed like they weren't nearly as close as they had been before.

Tucker was still around almost as often as always. But… well, Tucker wasn't Sam, no offense to Tucker or anything. It was just that it was easier to talk to Sam about some things than it was to talk to Tucker. Not to mention that at least Sam had never tried to ditch him at the first sight of a female who there was even the slightest chance with. And it seemed somehow like this was happening with even greater frequency than previously. And, oddly, in some instances it actually seemed he was having some success…

Meanwhile, Danny's attempts with Valerie had finally ceased when it became absolutely clear he had no chance, and Paulina still only wanted to bother with him when she needed to make someone jealous. Oh, yeah, and when he was in ghost form, but it wasn't as if he could ever get that to translate into his non-ghost form.

He sighed again, wishing he could just fall asleep, but even that was getting hard to do. Ghosts kept waking him up at all hours of the night, and he had to drag himself out of bed to get rid of them. By the time they were gone, though, his adrenaline was too revved up for him to settle down and fall asleep once more. He generally spent the rest of the night wide awake, just letting thoughts run through his head. And maybe that was what had caused this whole thing in the first place. This… nasty little habit of his. Because that's what it was: nasty. Sickening, disgusting, bizarre, disturbing. That was exactly what it was.

He glanced at the clock. 5:30 a.m., a full hour before he normally got up. But it seemed unlikely he would be getting any sleep anyway, so he sat up, and swung his legs over the side of the bed, slipping on his slippers as his feet hit the floor. He stood up, and made his way towards the door. He started to open his door, but flinched at the loud creak it produced, and ceased the action. Instead, he quickly went ghost and phased through it, and then proceeded to float his way to the bathroom.

He slipped back into his human form once he got there, his feet hitting the tiles lightly. He took one look in the mirror and inwardly groaned. There were dark circles under his eyes, and, in his opinion, he looked like crap. He turned away, and pulled his pajama shirt over his head, discarding it in the corner. He stripped down completely, and then stepped into the shower, quickly turning the hot water up. The water relaxed his muscles slightly, and he turned his attention to washing his hair.

He spent longer in the shower than he usually would, if only because he had nothing else to do. Once done, he shook the excess water out of his hair, and then pulled a towel around his waist. He quickly checked the hall to make sure it was empty before dashing back to his room.

"Oh, Danny, you're up early!"

Danny found himself halting in his tracks, cringing slightly at the voice. Jazz. Exactly the last person in the household he had wanted to meet on the way back to his room. He hugged his pajamas closer to himself, shifting the bundle slightly to cover more of his forearms before he turned around to face Jazz, "Err, yeah, just woke up early, y'know…"

"Well, as long as you didn't leave the bathroom a mess… you didn't have any early morning ghost fights, did you?"

"No, no ghosts, Jazz."

"Alright, just checking. See you at breakfast."

"Yeah, sure." He turned away, hearing the bathroom door open and close behind him. Once he got to his room he quickly slipped inside and shut the door behind himself, dropping his pajamas as he did. Close call, he thought, glancing down at his arms. If anyone were to find out… Jazz would probably be the worst option. It'd be a one way ticket to the school psychologist, with a little extra psychoanalyzing courtesy of Jazz herself on the side.

With these thoughts in mind, he pulled on a pair of jeans, and grabbed a long-sleeved white shirt from his bureau. Over this he put a green t-shirt, and then he tied on his regular old sneakers. Afterwards, he grabbed his backpack and headed down to breakfast. Instead of sitting down though, he just grabbed a muffin out of the breadbox and an apple off of the counter before leaving. He just simply didn't feel like dealing with Jazz again quite so soon.

He found himself walking alone, knowing that he wasn't going to be meeting up with either Sam or Tucker before school. Tucker had Technology Club in the morning before school, and Sam walked to school with Gregor these days, then hung out at his locker until the first bell rang. The walk to school wasn't long, but Danny found himself wishing that Sam and Tucker were there for it anyway.

Once at the school, he trudged to his locker, under the distinct impression that it was going to be a bad day. Unfortunately, it seemed that the fates, in the form of a dim-witted blonde quarterback, were only too happy to oblige.

"Hey, Fenturd! Where do you think you're going?"

Maybe if I ignore him, he'll just go away…, Danny thought, although he didn't even really believe the idea himself.

Dash glared at Danny, and grabbed his arm roughly, twisting the smaller teen around, "Hey, Fenton, I'm talking to you!"

Danny winced, trying to pull his arm away, "Dash, can you please just let go…"

"God, you're such a girl, Fentonia, it's not like my grip's that tight." Dash sneered, but dropped the other boy's arm anyway. Danny scowled at him, and then turned away and continued on his way to homeroom. Dash continued to sneer at his retreating form.

"Hey, dude!" Dash turned to see Kwan approaching him, "Hey man." Kwan high-fived him, and then frowned abruptly, "Whoa, man, what happened to your hand?"

"Huh?" Dash looked down at his hand, turning it over palm up. He blinked in suprise.

Blood?