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Sleep Paralysis

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William Lancer had never been a superstitious man. He enjoyed reading about the supernatural, true, about mythology, legends, folklore, but he wasn't superstitious.

In Amity Park, believing in ghosts did not count as superstition. It was simply common sense.

Even so, this was pushing the limits of common sense. The almost-empty salt container rattled softly in his hand as he shook out the last few grains. Sweeping all this up, each white line he had drawn at every threshold and every windowsill would be a pain. A greater pain than the splinters and thorns he had picked up from the 'sacred trees' he had alternately planted in his yard and cut up to hang over his doorways.

William didn't have a choice. He was at his wits end, and he was being haunted.

He was being haunted, and the normal methods of dealing with such things hadn't done a thing. Of course, the 'normal methods' were 'wait for Phantom to show up' and 'call the Fentons,' so he wasn't quite sure what he had been expecting.

The teenage ghost didn't exactly have a hotline and while the Fentons did, their services had been less than efficacious. They'd camped out at his house for two nights, and the only things they had removed from it were all of his sweets. The ghost had not made an appearance. It (they, she, he, William didn't know) was smarter than that.

The Fentons had told him that he was most likely suffering from a case of nerves or stress (what nerves, what stress, in the middle of summer?) and had given him a small ectogun. On the house. Neither of these things comforted him.

Oddly, part of William insisted that if Mr. Fenton, that is, Danny, not Jack, had been there, things would have gone differently. Differently how, that part of William wouldn't say. When he thought about it, he honestly couldn't imagine why Danny's presence would change things. He liked Danny. Somehow, the younger Fenton had found his way to being William's favorite student, even if he was also an incredibly inconsistent student, but he was also shy, never in place when a ghost showed up.

... Huh. There was something there, but William's tired mind couldn't quite reason it out.

If the ghost would just let him be, let him rest.

William pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. What he wouldn't give for some rest... He'd even call the Fentons back, if it came to that. He exhaled slowly and sank into his armchair, the laughably tiny ectogun balanced on his thigh, his fireplace on his right. He had covered the hearth with salt, too, just in case.

He was losing his mind, wasn't he?

No. Ghosts were normal in Amity Park. He wasn't crazy. He wasn't even superstitious, for all that he was resorting to older apotropaics. There was a reason the garden supply store sold so many different varieties of holly, rowan, and sage.

He took a deep breath, let it out. Nothing had happened yet, tonight. Perhaps the Fentons had scared the ghost off. Perhaps he could pass this night in peace. His hand inched towards the small table next to his chair. He had a book there, one he had been reading before this started...

A fire roared to life in the fireplace. William's breath caught in his throat.

For several long minutes, the only thing that changed was how much sweat glued William's pajamas to his skin.

Then the whispers started.

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The ghost haunting William was not like the Box Ghost. William could deal with the Box Ghost. He had dealt with the Box Ghost. That cardboard-loving spirit could have been a threat, in another world, in another life (death?), but in this one he was more of a pest, than anything. Sort of like a barking dog. A very small barking dog.

But this ghost, this ghost that William hadn't even seen but somehow managed to turn his life into a paranoid hell, this ghost wasn't like that. Wasn't like any of the ghosts he'd seen at the school. Wasn't like any of the ghosts he'd seen on the news. Wasn't like the ghosts the Fentons talked about.

This ghost, it was more like things he'd seen in stories, in books, myths, legends. Something ethereal, something that stuck to shadows, drove men crazy, stole the breath from their mouths and light from their eyes, or burned down their house while they slept.

Or pushed a person so far that their inattention and exhaustion did them in. If it was the school year, and he had to drive... But, maybe, if school was in session, he would have been able to flag down Phantom after one of his fights.

William's hands shook as he pressed buttons on his coffee machine. He needed to sleep. He couldn't sleep. Not with the ghost always, always waiting for him to relax.

He was a mess, and he didn't know what to do.

He did not save his coffee from boiling over until it was far too late to salvage. He felt sick. He needed air.

Going outside was risky. Too many accidents had dogged his steps yesterday, even accounting for his fatigue, but staying inside wasn't any better.

He stepped slowly and carefully over his salt lines and onto the porch. Fresh air hit him like a sledgehammer. The space just below the top of his head buzzed uncomfortably.

Looking to the side of his door, William noticed that his extra rowan cuttings were all gone. He shivered. He was only wearing his pajamas. This really wasn't dignified.

He was afraid to go back in.

Something across the street caught his attention. He looked up, half afraid of what he would see.

Danny Fenton.

William let his shoulders slump in a mixture of relief and intense embarrassment. What kind of a teacher was he, letting his students see him dressed like this?

What was Danny Fenton doing here, anyway?

Danny tilted his head to one side and blinked a few times. Slowly, William raised a hand in greeting. Danny seemed to take this as an invitation, because he smiled brightly, raised one of his hands, laden with a shopping bag, and crossed the street, walking right up to William's porch.

"Hi, Mr. Lancer!" he said, with an energy William hadn't felt in years. "Jazz and I are back from our college tour." Which was obvious, really. "Mom and Dad said you weren't feeling well, so I brought you some stuff." He shook the bags. "Should I just give them to you, or put them down somewhere?"

William's sleep-deprived brain was still caught on being embarrassed, but he did manage to make himself nod. He had been wishing for Danny to be here, like he was some kind of lucky charm. But... was it safe for Danny to be here?

"Safe?" asked Danny.

"Did I say that out loud?"

"Yeah," said Danny. Amusement mixed with worry in his tone. "You really must be sick. You look like you haven't slept in days."

William pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Something like that," he admitted. "I'm being haunted."

Something William couldn't interpret passed over Danny's features. "Mom and Dad couldn't find it?"

"No."

"Well, maybe some of this could help. Have you tried candles? Or eyes?"

"What?"

Danny's face twisted into a wry grin. "Mom and Dad use modern methods," he said, "and I see you've been trying other things. Like salt, and the holly. But not all methods work for all ghosts." He put one foot on the steps of William's porch. "I can help you set up."

"But if the ghost comes-"

"Hey, I've dealt with ghosts before," said Danny.

William frowned. "So have I," he said. "So have your parents."

Danny shrugged. "Like I said, they prefer modern methods. They don't always work." His head tilted again. "Not all ghosts are like the Box Ghost, you know."

There was confidence, there. Quiet, yes, but... Danny wasn't confident. At least not in class, and... William felt like he was being trusted with something, almost. With a glimpse.

His head hurt.

"Alright," said William. He took a step back, towards his door. "Come on in."

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Danny laid boxes out on the dining room table. "This is just snacks," he said, pushing one box towards William. "Keeping your energy up is important. This stuff is apotropaics, which is mostly supposed to keep ghosts away in the first place, so I don't really know if they'll work." He picked up a rock painted with a blue eye, and a pendant with the same. "It can't hurt, though." He handed the pendant to William. "So, what's this ghost like, anyway?"

Feeling dazed, William just watched Danny take candles out of the bag and stand them up on the table for a few minutes. "When I relax," he said, finally, "that's when it comes. At night, mostly. Sometimes it doesn't. And then it does. It gets hard to move. I get-" He put one hand over his chest, and pressed down. "Then things happen. The fireplace. Stuff gets all-" He moved his hand up and down. Some English teacher he was, he could barely speak. Words escaped him. "What does it even matter?"

"Different ghosts have different weaknesses," said Danny. "Like, if you were dealing with a, um, more traditional Chinese ghost, you might be able to confuse it by breaking sight lines. They only like to move in straight lines, some of them. Feng shui or whatever. Spirit mazes." He wiggled his fingers. "But you've got walls and doors and stuff, so I don't think it is one of those." He stared down at the table and the objects on it, frowning slightly.

"What do you think it is?" asked William, tiredly. "And why didn't your parents bring this up?" He had the feeling that he really should find this whole situation more suspicious than he actually did, but he'd do almost anything for sleep, at this point.

"I don't know," said Danny, shrugging. "Did you ever have sleep paralysis? Or sleep walking? Night terrors?"

"Please don't try to tell me this is sleep paralysis," said William, scrubbing his hands over his face. His jaw felt like sandpaper. "I know what that feels like."

"But you did have it."

"Yes," said William. "I used to. But it stopped."

"When?"

"When I got a new medication."

"Which was?"

"I don't know. Last March, or February."

"Right before the ghost king stole the town?"

"What are you getting at, here?" asked William.

"I think-" The windows rattled, cutting Danny off. "Oh, it doesn't like that, does it?"

William felt the weight in his chest like a stone. Couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't think-

Danny pulled on his elbow, and suddenly he could move. "We need to get out of here," he said. "Sunlight."

"What?"

"You never had sleep paralysis," said Danny, pulling William along. "You were possessed, and it wants back in."

"What?" wheezed William, and it was getting really hard to breathe. Black spots danced in his vision. He fell.

"Hey!" shouted Danny. Something like a growl rippled in the air. "Back off! You can't have him. He's mine."

Which didn't make any sense, but then, nothing made sense right now, he couldn't think except for terror.

And suddenly the missing holly branches were in Danny's chest. Danny staggered. Went down on one knee.

"Don't think you can kill me that easily, pest."

And William's vision went black.

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William woke up in bed. In his bed. With the covers drawn up to his chin. He'd been sleeping on his back. He never sleeps on his back.

Other things are off, too. His slippers were in the wrong place. His throw rugs have been moved. A picture shifted to hide a burn mark on the wall. The dishwasher has been run. Several cups are missing.

So are all the supplies Daniel had brought him, earlier.

It was as if someone, or something, wanted to make William think that everything that had happened was just a dream, but William knew that it wasn't. There were too many discrepancies, too much evidence, and, more to the point, he remembers.

He hoped it was Danny trying to cover things up. He really did.

If it was the ghost... William didn't want to think about that.

Should he call the Fentons? He still has their number.

But he didn't know what happened. He could remember, but... it didn't make sense. It didn't make sense for the ghost to cover this up, or to let him sleep. Except-

William nearly threw up when he remembered the branch embedded in his student's chest. That was- That was awful. That couldn't have been real. He must have been hallucinating. He had passed out, right after.

He shook his head. No, this was how people convinced themselves that something was 'just a dream' in movies. That hadn't been a dream. He hadn't dreamed that whole awful, terrible thing. He hadn't dreamed he was being haunted. He wasn't going to gaslight himself.

That thought turned over for a few minutes, then he lunged for his phone.

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This was stalking. William was stalking his student.

That sounded bad.

It was bad, honestly, but William needed to see for himself that Danny was intact, and it wasn't the school year. He couldn't just wait for Danny to stroll into the classroom, thirty minutes late.

What if the ghost has latched on to him?

But, no. Even if the Fentons hadn't found it when it was haunting William, if it was after their own son, surely they'd realize it.

William just had to see. He'd look, he'd see, he'd maybe knock on the front door if Danny insisted on staying inside all day, and-

Danny walked out of his front door and bounced down the front steps of Fentonworks. He turned and started walking up the street.

Great. Now William should go, Danny's fine, but...

William did not go. Rather, he did go, but not home.

Now he really was stalking Danny, and he was being as stealthy as possible, given that this could likely cost him his job if anyone noticed. Stealth was difficult. Danny walked surprisingly quickly. Deceptively quickly. His half-skipping gait looked slow, but it ate up the ground, and trying to keep up with it left William feeling winded.

Of course, that might just be the effect of barely sleeping for who knows how long. Who knew? Not William.

But Danny went up the street and so did William.

They had almost reached the local park, when a ghost attacked. Because of course a ghost attacked. This was Amity Park, after all. Thankfully, for William's nerves, it was a normal ghost, not like whatever had been tormenting him. He even knew this ghost's name. Skulker.

Which was less of a comfort considering that the ghost was intent on attacking Danny. Why this was the case, William didn't know.

The metal-covered ghost sent missile after missile after Danny, and Danny just. Kept. Dodging. Oftentimes, by little more than an inch.

It was terrifying.

Danny didn't look particularly scared. Which was somehow even more terrifying.

After what couldn't be more than a minute, the ghost swooped low and close, and Danny whipped something white and green from behind his back, and a blue light poured out of it, engulfing the ghost and sucking it in.

Danny continued down the street.

William went home.

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When school started again, William watched Danny more closely. As closely as he dared. Now that he had his eyes open, it was easier to see that there was something off about Daniel. Not really wrong, per se, but not normal.

It wasn't just skipping class, although that was part of it, or the way he and his friends hold themselves aloof from the normal social hierarchy, or how there were sometimes burn marks on his homework, it was something deeper and more elusive. Something more fundamental.

Halfway through October, William realized Danny didn't move nearly as much as someone his age should. He's still. Too still.

In November William found a pattern to Danny's absences. He didn't like it, and he tried to forget. He tried to stop looking, stop watching. Tried to tell himself that it wasn't possible.

But by December, William was fairly certain: Danny was dead.

Danny was dead.

His student.

Dead.

And a ghost, on top of that.

William had no idea how to cope.

But he didn't know for sure. Didn't know that Danny was out there, day and night, fighting ghosts, so he simply... ignored it. Treated Danny like normal. Like a student. Even if he was a ghost, he still had a right to an education, didn't he? Being dead was simply... a disability, of sorts. William's training covered exceptional students and accommodations. He couldn't very well set up an IEP meeting with the Fentons to discuss how Daniel was no longer among the living and how that might affect his ability to learn, but as a classroom teacher and as vice principal, he could make things a little easier for Daniel.

None of this really settled his anxiety, but it kept it at manageable levels.

It helped that his sleep paralysis did not come back. He didn't want to think about that too closely.

But then he couldn't ignore it, because he walked in on Danny changing, peeling off his skin and burning it like flash paper, in an unused classroom, and now there was a ghost tearing up the school behind him, and a ghost tearing up and hyperventilating in front of him, and he didn't know what to do.

"Just," said William, holding up his hands, "just breathe, Danny." He had no idea if that would help, no idea if Danny even needed to breathe.

"Mr. Lancer?" asked Danny. His voice wavered beneath a supernatural echo. He blinked hard, deliberately. "You-" He inhaled raggedly. "You can't- Please don't tell anyone!"

"I-" started William, unsure if or what he should promise. Now that he knew... Did that change what he should do? As a teacher? As an adult?

He didn't know.

Something crashed behind William. Far behind William. Somewhere in the vicinity of the cafeteria, he'd guess.

Something flickered over Danny's face. "I've gotta go," he said. "Please, just, don't tell anyone."

And then he vanished.

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The next time Danny reappeared it was in front of William's house, between two of the holly trees William had planted that summer. He was wearing a coat that was much too thin for the weather, and had a box in his hands that just screamed 'bribe,' for all that it was wrapped in Christmas-tree themed paper.

William watched him through the blinds. He wasn't sure if he should invite Danny in.

Danny was a ghost. A dangerous ghost. Arguably the most dangerous ghost in Amity Park. A ghost that beats up other ghosts on a daily basis.

Danny was also his student, and he was standing out there in the cold, looking terrified.

William walked over to the door and opened it, slowly. It creaked and the cold made his toes curl inside his socks.

"Mr. Fenton," he said, "Danny... Why don't you come in?"