Authors note:

Hello all... s'been a while, I know. Sorry about that. I've been going through a few things in real life that have left me exhausted and very, frustratingly busy. Anyone who follows on my Tumblr knows what's been going on, so if you really want a more detailed explanation for my absence, feel free to check it out (Address in my profile...)

On a happier note... I get to be married in 15 days. Yay me!

This chapter is a bit shorter than my usual fare, and in all actuality, should have been one more scene longer... but I really wanted to get something up and posted to prove I'm not dead and haven't abandoned any of my stories. This one was just easier for me to update first. I'm going to try and focus this weekend on getting things back on track with both of them.

oh, and to the guest asking about Danny's age...

I made Danny 17 because they state that he was 14 when he got his powers, freshmen year. They never state when his birthday is, or just how early in the year he got his powers (before school started, or at the beginig of the year or what)... so I took some liberties and just kinda went with this : 14 (freshmen) 15 (sophomore) 16(junior) 17(senior).

I knew several people who didn't turn 18 until after they graduated... so *shrug*

Anywhooots. Enjoy!

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Where is it?"

It was rage made vocal despite the missing mouth. An emotion that usually wasn't observed so blatantly coming from one of them.

The thought made Clockwork's lips curl into a small smirk. His mind was coming up with puns now. How quaint.

The ancient ghost glowered up at him, bony fingers curling tightly around that accursed staff. The hint of humor melted from Clockwork's face as he eyed the troublesome artifact with disdain. That gruesome object was the only reason he found himself in this current predicament. It's tiresome master may have thought itself all powerful, but would do well to realize that without the staff, this little rebellion would have ended long ago.

He felt his form shift from bearded old man to toddler, and he turned his head away to act as if he hadn't heard the question.

The staff was rapped against the glowing green barrier between them, sending a cascade of crackling sparks that seared away against Clockwork's subdued aura.

Another shift occurred, this time to the shape of a middle aged man. He cocked his head and sported a blank look as he stated flatly, "You'll have to be more precise."

"The thermos, Clockwork!"

"What thermos?" His voice lilted innocently, though there was a snide twinkle in his blood red eyes.

"You are in no position to play your usual games."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Another shower of sparks. Another shift in forms. Clockwork almost winced as his aura dimmed further, the embers of energy burning away at his ectoplasm. Instead, he donned a mask of indifference, unwilling to give the mad ghost before him the satisfaction of seeing his discomfort.

"You must know where it is! You know everything that will come to pass!"

Clockwork turned away, "Not as I am now, I don't. You made sure of that, didn't you?"

"You are insufferable!"

"And you are playing with forces you have never understood."

"Do not forget who it is you serve!"

This time, instead of the quick angry tap, the staff was pressed firmly against the barrier, and sparks turned to neon bolts. Clockwork's form flickered unstably as a rush of power ripped through him. A pained gasp escaped his lips, but he refused to shirk away. He may have been severely weakened in his present state... but he was the guardian of the time-lines. His very existence demanded reverence. This broken creature would not be allowed to deny him his purpose for long. He only need bide his time.

Heh... another pun. Maybe he was spending too much time watching over his mortal charge.

Gathering what strength he could muster, he forced a shift to his middle aged form and drew himself to his full size to glare menacingly down at his captor. His aura flared violently, "I am not a dog you may whip to fuel your own twisted ego. I am not a human, who will cower fearfully at your pathetic presence. I am the master of time itself! I am the closest thing to a God you will ever lay your eye on. Do not patronize me. I remember quite well what it is I serve. Do you?"

The staff was hastily pulled away as it's owner's confidence wilted. The crystal among it's branches had been pulsing angrily, but now it faded to a dull green as the bolts of raw energy ceased.

Clockwork snickered, narrowing his eyes dangerously despite the fact that he currently lacked the ability to truly act on his threats, "Tell me... where are your brothers?"

Several long seconds of silence passed between the two before the lanky, cloaked figure outside the elevated containment cell seemed to regain it's senses. It dragged it's fingers nervously up and down the wooden staff before squaring it's slender shoulders and gliding back a few feet. It chose to ignore the question, "As you wish, Clockwork. Refuse to cooperate if you must, it truly matters not. It wasn't necessary to my plans... It was simply a distraction. Soon I will have my Catalyst, and all will be as it should be."

Clockwork continued to tower over the ghost, the ticking of the various timepieces that made up his ethereal form echoing loudly across the chamber, "Even with your rather... limited... point of view, you know as well as I do that nothing is as it should be... but there is still time to fix this mess. I can fix this mess. Destroy that abomination you carry and return to me my staff."

This only seemed to relight the flames of the other ghost's anger, and it hastily delivered another rain of sparks against the prisoner. This time, Clockwork couldn't help but wince, as he growled out an exasperated groan.

"You have already been allowed to meddle and stray from your assigned task far too freely. You should have been leashed long ago. Know your place!"

"Oh, I know my place quite well, and I have never strayed from my purpose." Clockwork murmured darkly, "I'm curious… How does it feel to break your oath so thoroughly?"

***
Valerie's eyes snapped open, as she shot straight up in the bed and turned her gaze toward the large, gothic window to her left. She thought she had heard some kind of commotion in the distance.

She hadn't been sleeping, of course… how could she? Danny and his friends may have insisted they were somewhere safe... but she knew better. Nowhere was safe. Especially here. Especially in the Zone.

She was trapped deep inside a ghost's lair. She was in enemy territory.

They were all just evil pieces of...

No.

She caught her breath as a sudden image of Danielle flashed into her mind, distracting her from her original line of thought. Playful green eyes that were sometimes blue. Wispy, wavy white hair that was sometimes black. A smile that could even brighten the ghost hunter's day, and make her forget just how tired she was.

Dani was a ghost. Dani wasn't evil. Dani was her friend... right? She came to visit with Valerie on a semi-regular basis, and they'd certainly grown accustom to one another over the years. Hell, it had been Valerie that taught Dani how to apply makeup. She had taught a ghost how to wear makeup! How could that be evil?

And then there was Phantom to consider.

Phantom still stirred an old, deep rooted river of rage through her heart, and she narrowed her eyes in the darkness...

He had saved the world. He had left her alone. He never once tried to actually hurt her, despite all their altercations over the years. Sure, he'd act like he was defending himself... but she'd seen what he could do when he was being serious. She'd seen what he could do when he really, truly wanted to cause some damage. When it came to her... when it came to their encounters... he was all banter and no bite. No malice. No danger… even when she had really tried to destroy him.

And he was Dani's cousin.

Mrs. Fenton had said earlier that ghosts couldn't... er... shouldn't really have families... but she knew that Dani and Phantom were related. Dani had told her so. Dani wouldn't lie to her. The Fentons were smart, sure, but they made mistakes all the time. Valerie would definitely take Dani's word over theirs.

Phantom had saved the world. Dani wasn't evil. That meant that not all ghosts were bad...

But Dani wasn't a typical ghost, was she? She was... she was whatever Vlad was.

Vlad was evil.

She had to keep reminding herself to focus. She had a job to do. A purpose. She hunted ghosts. She saved people... She couldn't afford to let her guard down. She wouldn't let her guard down.

But...

Ever since Dani... ever since the Disastroid there had been a single, persistent nagging in the back of her head.

Her thoughts were on a constant repeat. They were a playlist that looped over and over in her mind. Dani wasn't a normal ghost, and if she was telling the truth, if she was related to Phantom...

That meant he wasn't either. That meant he could change. He could look—be?—human.

And whenever she tried to imagine what he would look like... whenever she would think about what human Danielle's older cousin might look like...

A chill went down her spine, and she shivered involuntarily.

She had a suspicion... but whenever she thought about it too long it would make her nauseous. She would shove that unpleasant thought deep in the recesses of her mind, force it back beneath all her anger and hate.

White to black. Green to blue—No. She would hide that image away, and pretend it didn't exist.

Because it couldn't be true. It was impossible.

She didn't want it to be true.

A distant blast echoed and she shook herself from her distracted haze, shifting to autopilot. She went to yank the covers off her legs, but in the process realized that she was pinned beneath the tight blanket. There was another body beside her, latched to her arm.

She'd forgotten about them. She'd forgotten she wasn't alone.

She couldn't help the scowl that crossed her face.

She muttered a very inappropriate curse, just as Star's eyes blinked groggily open. Long blond strands of hair shifted as the thin, pale cheerleader rolled to her back to stare up at her in concern, "Valerie? Are you ok?"

Valerie's face softened slightly at her classmate's soft tone. Years ago Star had been her best friend. Years ago they had been inseparable.

Then things happened—ghost things—and Star abandoned her. Star was more afraid of ruining her reputation, and of Paulina, than she was of losing Valerie.

That had hurt.

But when senior year came, it seemed like her old friend had regretted her past actions. Paulina's iron grip on her had broken away once she'd been gifted a scholarship to a very good school. It also helped that she and Kwan had started dating. The two were good for each other. Both of them had matured, realizing that being cruel wasn't really their way. They didn't like being feared. Deep down, they were really nice people that were just following for the sake of following...

And they didn't need to do that anymore.

So while the other A-listers continued their reign of terror, the two of them began distancing themselves. They were still popular, and still a bit smug and snobby...

But Valerie couldn't remember the last time Kwan had picked on geek. She couldn't remember the last time Star had implied that someone was ugly because they were slightly overweight.

She couldn't remember the last time they smiled at someone else's misery.

They weren't perfect, of course... Kwan would let Dash get a little carried away before sheepishly pulling his friend away and suggesting that 'hey, that dork isn't worth it, just leave him alone'... and Star wouldn't always speak up against Paulina, instead she'd roll her eyes and walk away, ignoring the Latino prep more often than others realized.

So no, not perfect... but it was a start.

And... well... Valerie had a very short supply of normal, human friends. Hell, she had a short supply of any friends. If there was a chance, any chance at all that she and Star might rekindle some sort of relationship... she'd give the blond the benefit of the doubt.

She knew she couldn't get too close of course, her work was too dangerous. The Red Huntress was not well liked, and she refused to let someone else get hurt because of her lifestyle choice...

But God, was she lonely. Maybe that's why she was still going along with Danny's recently asinine behavior. Maybe that's why she hadn't just abandoned the group, donned her armor, and flown home for help. Maybe that's why she resisted the urge to become the Red Huntress and take control of the situation.

"Val..?" Star's hand went up to rub the crusts of sleep from her reddened eyes—probably a mix of exhaustion and the harsh atmosphere of the Ghost Zone—and she became slightly more aware, "What's wrong?"

Valerie shook her head, "Uh, nothing. Thought I heard something... didn't mean to wake you up."

Star stared up at her unconvinced, but before she could say anything else another explosion erupted.

This one was close enough to wake pretty much everyone, and several ghostly shouts echoed loudly from somewhere outside.

"What the hell was that?" Paulina's terrified voice bounded across the room from the couch she had settled into. She'd refused to share, and had insisted she be given the king sized bed all to herself because she needed her 'beauty sleep.' Valerie had plopped herself down and stubbornly refused to let the pompous cheerleader get her way. Star eventually shrugged and lay down next to her, ignoring Paulina's whiny protests. It wasn't until Mrs. F. had barged into the room and demanded that they be quiet and rest that Paulina finally gave up.

Among protests from both the other girls, Valerie pulled herself free and stumbled off the other side of the bed so that she could look outside. She needed to know what they were up against.

She gasped loudly at the sight.

They were in trouble.
***

"Dad?"

Jack watched as his son's face paled even further, eyes darting back and forth between his father and the direction the princess had hastily flown off after the explosion.

Panic—or something very near it—filled Danny's eyes to the brim as one hand gripped the railing tightly, knuckles white with strain against the ice beneath his palm. The other hand clutched tightly at the blanket draped across his shoulders, drawing it closed like a curtain as if to hide away as much of himself as possible.

"You were... you were listening?" His tone was a harsh, and his eyes hard. It was evident that he was still in pain, but it was second to the way his face contorted into mix of anger and betrayal, with a small dash of disbelief to top it off.

"Danny, I... what did you mean...?"

A second explosion interrupted, and his son's eyes flashed—quite literally—as he seemed to struggle internally with inaction. A silent decision was made, and seconds later he was darting away from Jack, following the balcony to run off in the same direction as his ghostly friend.

"What... no! Dammit!" The eldest Fenton swore—A very rare occurrence saved for the most desperate of times—and took off at full tilt after his son, "Danny, stop! Please!"

He was completely ignored. His son didn't even flinch as he continued running, but had brought one hand up to grip tightly at his side.

Jack breathed deeply, begging his legs to move faster, urging himself to catch up... How was Danny moving so fast? His injuries should have been hindering him far more than they were, or at least been some sort of obstacle. Danny had become more athletic the past couple years, sure, but he was never this fast. He always lagged just a little bit behind; his C+ in gym class attested to that.

The elder Fenton watched as his son ducked hastily around a corner, and barreled around himself a few seconds later.

Only to nearly smack face first into a very solid stone wall. Danny was gone, nowhere to be seen. Jack fumbled around on his own two feet for a moment, unsure of what the hell was going on, "Danny!? Where are you?!"

A sudden, ear splitting screech sliced through the air above him, and his head jerked up just in time to catch the monstrous blue dragon he knew to be the Princess race through the Zone above him, faster than he would have assumed her bulk could ever allow. Several seconds later a dark, black shadow of a beast followed, and narrowing his eyes he quickly realized it was another ghostly dragon.

This one's scales were jet black, an opalescent sheen that reflected the green hazy light of the Ghost Zone like an oily mirror. It's leathery wings and underside were a deep purple—the color reminding him of Sam's lipstick—and it's horns and claws were neon green. As it circled around above him, Jack took notice that it was far more slender than Dora was, with it's neck easily twice as long, and gangly limbs compared to her thicker, stockier ones.

It let out a loud, angry roar that gave way to a stream of rushing blue flames. Smoke filled the air as Dora gave out a shriek, acrobatically turning herself at a sharp angle to meet the assault with her own, billowing green flames.

The black dragon stayed it's course, ignoring the hot, ghostly fire that kissed it's scales as it collided head on with it's adversary. Even among the growing sounds of battle surrounding him, Jack could hear the heavy thud of their bodies. Both glowing beasts wailed and fell, a messy tangled ball of claws and teeth, scratching and biting the whole way down.

The distraction was so great that Jack almost didn't notice the gang of grisly green skeletons that clambered and shambled their way up and over the railings from the gardens below... despite the danger, he couldn't help but feel like they belonged in one of those cheesy horror movies the kids liked so much. He briefly wondered why they didn't just fly, or phase through the floor, but shook the questions from his head as he realized that these ghosts definitely weren't friendly like Dora and her subjects. Maybe they just weren't that intelligent... maybe they acted as a hive mind. As interesting as it was, it really didn't matter for the time being.

He hastily scrambled for his weapon, a small ecto-gun that was nestled in his belt and fired toward the approaching apparitions. For each one that fell or stumbled back, two more seemed to hobble into the space left behind.

His eyes darted to the side, looking for any possible escape. Unfortunately, he had followed Danny straight into a dead end, and his only options seemed to be through the approaching hoard, or up and over the balcony. He had no doubt that that route would lead to at least several broken bones—or worse—as he cast his glance to the grounds far below.

The sights and sounds of conflict rose up to meet him as he spied Dora's own knights and subjects raising arms against the undead swarms that had seemingly appeared from nowhere. Dora and the other dragon were smack dab in the middle of it, still tangled in an awkward, otherworldly wrestling match.

Jack cursed as a skeletal specter got a bit too close for comfort, and he fired an ecto-blast right between it's hollowed out eyes. It let out a gurgled moan as it fell back, and several of it's brethren climbed unconcerned over it's crumpled form.

"Dammit!" Jack was running out of space. There was only a few feet between him and the wall, and he was very close to being overrun. He took another shot, and another ghost fell.

That's when he felt a cold hand grip tightly to his arm from behind, and he spun on one heel in shock to bat away whatever evil piece of ectoplasmic scum had somehow flanked him.

The ghost in question quickly went intangible to avoid the blow, before snarling, "I am not an enemy, you idiot!"

"Who...?"

Before Jack could finish his sentence, he felt his feet leave stone as he was hoisted into the air with an embarrassingly startled cry.
***

It was slightly embarrassing to admit that she had to be put in her place by an eighteen year old girl... But that's exactly what had happened when the chaos had begun. Maddie had turned her ire toward the knightly ghost that claimed only to want to protect them, accusing him of some type of trickery... after all, where were her son and husband? What kind of coincidence was it that trouble started after they had disappeared?
To his credit, Honorbound remained calm and collected with the fiery Fenton, defending his innocence while insisting on getting them somewhere safe—somewhere more defensible.

She'd accused him of wanting to lead them into a trap... all the while the gaggle of students surrounding her winced and cringed at every sound, every clang and boom that echoed down the hallway. Whatever was going may have begun some distance away, but it was undeniable that the commotion was moving closer at an alarmingly quick pace.

With a loud, angry huff, Sam had stepped between ghost and ghost-hunter, placed her hands on her hips and demanded they stop acting like children. She'd pointed out that wherever Danny and Jack were, they were undoubtedly heading somewhere safe... and probably together, since Honorbound had said they went off in the same direction. There were more important matters to attend to at the moment than arguing among themselves...

It was at that moment that Lila had appeared, crimson red eyes widened, and hands wringing nervously. She stuttered nervously, "Ho... Honorbound. It's Lord Aragon and Fright Knight! They've... They've brought an army... They're looking for..." A brief, telling glance was sent toward Sam and Tucker.

The techno-geek groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose as murmured quietly, "Johnny did say they looking for Danny..."

Sam's lips formed a thin line, and her eyes narrowed on the ghostly handmaiden, "Where's Dora?"

"She's taken to the skies to defend the castle from Lord Aragon..."

"As much as I wish to join the battle..." Honorbound interrupted grimly, "We must get the humans to safety, do you understand Lila?"

"The... the throne room! It's the safest room in the castle. Just beyond the great hall!"

Honorbound agreed, heaving his sword to his shoulder, he turned a wary gaze toward Maddie, "Please, my lady. Place your trust in us. In me."

She was still suspicious, but somewhere deep down was a small thread of belief. She resisted the urge to snuff it out, just as Tucker placed a palm on her shoulder, "Let's go, Mrs. F."

Finally she nodded, and the knight gave a wide, toothy grin, "Follow close. I swear on my afterlife that I will allow no harm to come to any of you. Lila, please take up the rear."

"Right!"

The group fell in line behind Honorbound, with Valerie, Star and Paulina in font. Dash and Mr. Lancer were helping Kwan hobble along as fast as they could muster, while Mikey and Nathan followed close behind them. Sam, Maddie and Tucker were just ahead of Lila.

Bright flashes of light streaked by the windows outside as they ran, and for a brief moment the swirling green shroud of the Zone was blacked out by two gigantic shadows as the dragons outside fought for dominance.

Torches flicked as they ran passed, and somehow they all made it down the stairs without tripping over one another's feet. Another hallway whizzed by, and slowly but surely the castle came to life with numerous scrambling ghosts rushing to and from. Some looked angry, preparing themselves for battle. Others looked scared, floating away in every direction to hide.

They had one last hallway to cross before they would reach the great hall, and Honorbound picked up his pace, stealing a quick glance backward to make sure his charges weren't too far behind. He was relieved to see that they were keeping up fairly well, and he turned back to the task at hand.

That relief was short lived, unfortunately.

Just as they crossed the threshold into the great hall, the giant, ancient wooden doors at the entrance burst inward and were flung from their hinges. Princess Dorathea—still in dragon from—was thrown unceremoniously into the room, her massive bulk crushing the large, heavy table they'd sat at earlier, tearing down half the front wall in the process. A pained growl bounced off the remaining walls as she clumsily tried to right herself.

Ectoplasm flowed across her scales from several gashes in her hide, and one of her wings had a long, jagged tear down the middle. Her mouth gaped slightly, with more of the viscous green liquid dripping out from between her teeth. Her nostrils flared with smoke, and her crimson eyes blinked rapidly as she shook her frame free from the debris surrounding her.

"Dora!" Sam screeched, darting out past her classmates to the front of the group. One hand swung her backpack around, and the other hastily pulled a wrist ray from deep within.

"Sam! Wait! Stop!" Tucker reached in vain with one hand to try and slow the hastily scrambling goth. She ducked out of his grasp and continued shoving her way through the rest of the motley crew of humans.

She wasn't quick enough to dodge Valerie's grip however, and the darker skinned girl leveled an icy glare and snarled, "What the hell do you think you're going to do?"

Without missing a beat, and with an equally seething, knowing gaze Sam retorted, "My job. What about you?"

***
"Stop... stop it! I don't have all of my strength back yet... I can't keep flying with you..!"

"Let me go! I said put me down, ghost!" Jack squirmed, swinging his free arm out in defiance. His significant weight shifted heavily in one direction.

This seemed to throw his captor off balance, and the two of them tumbled through an open window and into a different abandoned hallway of the castle. The specter released his hold just as they crashed to the floor.

Jack groaned, head jumbled and breath knocked from his lungs.

"Fantastic. Nice job there. Truly graceful."

The ghost-hunter shook his head and shoved himself to shaky feet. He decidedly did not enjoy flying. He raised his weapon in defense as he studied the ghost that had apparently come to his aid... still, he didn't want to take any chances.

"Yes. That's the rational thing to do, isn't it? Shoot the one who just saved you."

This ghost was tall, and lanky, sporting a dark purple trench coat and tattered, gray scarf. Bright, toxic green eyes peeked through thinly rimmed glasses, and a messy mop of black hair framed his face and fell to just above his shoulders. His chin sported a wispy patch of black hair, and what struck Jack the most was the fact that he lacked the more common green or blue skin tones often found in ecto-entities. His skin was a light ashy gray.

Jack cleared his throat, "Who are you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes." Jack needed a name. He needed to know if this ghost was 'friend' or 'foe'. Which one of Tucker's lists did he fall on?

The ghost sighed, and rolled his eyes in annoyance, "Ghost Writer, if you must know."

His tone was snippy, but not completely antagonistic. Jack's brain mentally flipped through the files he'd gone through earlier.

Ghost Writer. The name was not familiar. It wasn't on the "bad guy" list… then again, neither was Vlad, so maybe the kids just didn't know him...

"Listen, I did my good deed for the day. If you want to stand here and gape, be my guest. I, however, suggest we run... maybe try and find that illiterate boy you call a son."

"My son...?" Jack slowly lowered his ecto-gun. This ghost hadn't made any sudden moves yet, "So you do know him?"

"Of course I do. I also saw him bolt off and leave you high and dry. Why the hell he would do that in the middle of an attack is…well, it's rather out of character for him actually. But that's neither the here or now I suppose..." Ghost Writer snickered, turning to float off down the hallway. He never bothered to see if Jack was following, but continued speaking anyway, "Everyone knows your son. Though if I were being completely honest, him and I—well, we had a rather poetic start to our... acquaintanceship." Jack could practically hear the smirk that spread across the ghosts face, as if there was some sort of inside joke he wasn't privy to. He obviously thought himself to be fairly clever.

The odd pair hastily made their way toward a set of stairs with little else said. The eldest Fenton was still trying to mull over the fact that there was yet another puzzle piece, another ghostly friend—no, Ghost Writer had not used that word—acquaintance was the term of choice. The way this ghost spoke led Jack to believe that there might have been some type of altercation in the past... one that was a sore subject between the two. Still, the ghost hadn't attacked, and he had pulled him from that balcony, as unexpected and terrifying as the short flight was.

They had reached the staircase, and while Ghost Writer simply flew, Jack had to take the steps two at a time to keep up. "Why did you help me?"

"Ha! That's a ridiculous question. Phantom would utterly destroy me if he ever found out I let anything happen to you that I could have prevented."

The way Ghost Writer had answered had been so nonchalant that Jack's brain almost didn't catch it. As such, he found himself stopping dead in his tracks mid stride between two stairs, "Why would it matter to Phantom?"

The ghost seemed to stumble mid-air, his shoulders stiffening as he slowly turned to face the human behind him. Jack could almost imagine nervous sweat forming on his brow as he sputtered, "Uh... Eh... You mean he still hasn't..? I mean..."

Jack narrowed his eyes and glared down on the now not-so-confident ghost below him. "Why. Would. Phantom. Care?"

Ghost Writer's aura almost seemed to dim, causing his already pale skin to darken as if flustered, "Er... well, Phantom and your son are... they're quite close, you see..." He wrung his hands, "...and Phantom really is quite protective of his friends and your little town."

Jack sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose between two fingers. His brain was doing loopy-loops in his skull, and he knew... he just knew... that the answer to all his questions was staring him right in the face, taunting him. He just. Couldn't. See it.

Just as the ghost hunter was about to press further, the castle around them shook violently with a nearby explosion. Dust drifted down from the ceiling above, and Ghost Writer took the opportunity to change the subject, "We need to keep moving. I'm not too terribly familiar with Lady Dorathea's castle, and would very much like to make sure I'm somewhere safe. Preferably far, far away from Fright Knights and his minions. I've had all too much of them lately."

Fright Knight.

Now that was a name Jack recognized from Tucker's files. Ghost Writer had started moving again, and Jack reluctantly followed, "Is that who's attacking? Why?"

"How should I know?" The ghost's smarmy attitude seemed to have returned full swing, "I just know the bastard attacked me in my own home. He ransacked my library—for what I couldn't imagine, considering he's far from well read—and has been systematically raiding various lairs throughout the Ghost Zone for quite some time."

They turned a corner, only to find that the hallway ended in a pile of rubble. Part of the castle wall had collapsed inward, leaving a gaping hole that opened wide into the front grounds. Across the lengthy gardens Jack could just make out the entrance to the Great hall, or what was left of it anyway.

Absolute chaos lay between the two points. Hundreds of skeletons groaned, shambled and struck out against Dora's knights and citizens. Ectoblasts shot this way and that, like bullets flying through the air in a warzone. Cries and shouts echoed between his ears, and he spied numerous ghosts—some friendly, some not—collapsed in heaps, reduced to oozing piles of ectoplasm, their bodies too far gone to reform.

It was gruesome. Far more gruesome than anything Jack had ever seen before. Certainly worse than anything he had expected, even taking into consideration that they were in the Ghost Zone.

And in the middle of it all cantered a dark nightmare. A black, winged horse with an armored rider, coated in purple flames. A deadly sword waving through the air.

Fright Knight.

And he was making his way toward the great hall.
***

He was frustratingly aware as sweat ran down his brow, forming a small droplet on the tip of his nose before breaking free and falling to the floor below. His chest heaved, each labored breath sending a dull ache down his sides. He was hunched against a wall, leaning forward with his hands gripping his knees tight. One solitary thought wracked his brain despite the seemingly ever present haze that refused to disperse.

"I… I ran." He breathed, shaking his head in disbelief, "I... just left him there…"

A sharp stinging pain lashed out in his core, and suddenly he was overwhelmed with confusion. His back straightened, and he swung back one balled fist into the wall behind him, "God dammit! What the hell is wrong with me?!"

His voice echoed loudly, but there was no one else in the abandoned bedroom. No one was there to give him an answer. No one was there to pat him on the back and tell him it was all ok.

Not that they should. Nothing he had just done was even remotely ok.

He couldn't believe his own actions… yes, he was scared about his parents finding out his secret—he'd been more prone to anxiety and nightmares about the entire situation for a while now—but he'd never, ever just run away before. Not like that. And then he'd gone and phased through several walls to lengthen the distance... and that had left him feeling even weaker and even more broken then before. It was shameful.

His mind reeled. His stomach lurched.

He'd sooner face them knowing everything, even treating him like a freak, before leaving them in danger... At least, that's what he had thought, anyway.

And all of a sudden, there was that terror again, bubbling to the surface, urging him to crawl under a rock and hide. It was foreign and unwelcome. He wasn't used to bowing down to his fear like this…and with each deep breath he tried to take to calm himself, his chest protested angrily and the feeling only burrowed itself deeper.

Deep down he just knew that whatever Freakshow had done in the park was causing this… this confusion. This uncontrollable dance between anxiety and rage. It was like all of his emotions—primarily the negative ones—were on overdrive and he couldn't rein them in.

It was like knowing something wasn't your fault, but being completely unable to stop yourself from feeling like it was. He hated it. He'd never felt so… unstable.

And considering everything he'd been through in his relatively short half-life, this overbearing feeling of helplessness was downright bizarre. He'd faced down the most hellish monsters with resolve... Undergrowth, Nocturne, Pariah... they were all ancient evils that he had no right standing toe to toe with... yet he had. He'd gone head to head with Vlad—Plasmius—so many times he'd lost count.
He'd faced an apocalyptic future ruled by an inhuman, twisted version of himself.

He didn't always win. But he'd never just backed down.

Yet here he was, panting like a dog in a dark, abandoned room while an undead army threatened his friends and family.

Another loud boom startled him enough to put his thoughts into perspective, and he drew in a shaky breath. Pushing away from the wall, he shuffled across the room to a large, antique looking vanity. Both palms rested on the wooden table as he leaned forward to stare at himself in the mirror.

He was currently human, though even in the darkened room he could tell his skin had taken an unhealthy pallor. His thick black hair was a ruffled mess, despite his bangs being damp with a cold sweat. His eyes were glassy, slightly red with exhaustion and wide with uncertainty.

His voice cracked as he scolded himself, "Get a hold of yourself, Danny!"

All because his dad had been eavesdropping?

He'd abandoned his dad. He'd ran. He'd practically left him to die.

It was wrong.

He narrowed his glare, and curled his fingers around the corners of the vanity. His core ached uncomfortably, and he could feel the icy tendrils of his energy spread through his arms and across the wood beneath his fingers. He could feel the cold seep through his skin, building in his chest and pulsing with power.

Instead of resisting, he latched on. He pulled it to the surface and held it, intent on taking control. These were his powers dammit, and he had gone through years of learning, years of fighting, years of getting his butt kicked, and returning the favor to hone them to their current level.

There was a guttural roar from outside—either Dora or Aragon, he couldn't really tell—and he found himself struck by a twinge of panic as the noise reminded him that there was a very real battle going on, and if Johnny was right... it was because he was the target. His friends and family were in danger because someone wanted him. He swallowed, darting his tongue out to wet his chapped lips.

A hot, simmering anger slowly bled to the surface, lightening the weight that all that fear had put on his shoulders.

Toxic, glowing green bled through his light-blue irises, and he tugged at that familiar, cold, comforting spark deep inside. A ring of light formed around his midsection. His injuries protested painfully, but he grit his teeth and ignored it.

The rings split and surged up his body. Snow white hair replaced raven black.

He was Danny Phantom, dammit. He was practically a super-hero. He had a job to do.

Danny Phantom didn't run.

Authors note: I'll try to have the next chapter up as soon as possible... because it's going to be action packed and have one of my favorite scenes in it. Anywhoots, as always... Leave a review if you feel so inclined. I'm always open to constructive criticism.