Real Life AV Chapter 11

Real Life
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

Author’s Notes Version

--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--

Chapter 11

In Which Books Don’t Hold All the Answers

--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--

Oy.  It took forever to do this tiny chapter.  I’d get started and get into it and then get called away to do something.  I never really could get ‘rolling’.  Totally frustrating.

I’m also not a huge fan of the way that Tucker’s part came out.  His part wasn’t very fledged out in my outline, so I wasn’t sure really where I was going with it.  I’m afraid it’s rather easy to tell.    It was kind of a filler until I could get Sam to show up.  

I tried rewriting it so that Sam showed up earlier (which made this chapter work better), but it killed the flow of the next few chapters.  So I had to stick with it and put his part in little sections.

The librarian gave Tucker an odd look when he strolled into the library early Sunday morning with his backpack hanging off one shoulder.  The large building was normally a graveyard until noon – having someone there before the sun had fully risen in the sky was new.   Humming to himself, confident in the knowledge that nobody in the lifeless library cared how much noise he made, Tucker nodded once to the librarian and headed towards the back of the library.

Walking past the rows of books, Tucker wrinkled his nose and sighed.  He generally had more confidence in internet resources than library books despite the fact that ‘anyone’ could put things on the internet.  But yesterday, after he’d split up with Sam and Danny, he’d spent hours searching the web for any information that would help Danny… and he’d come up with precisely nothing.  Even after he expanded his definition of ‘vaguely credible websites’, he had been left empty-handed.  The local library, with its bizarre collection of old ghost books, was his last hope.

I rewrote this section so many times and I didn’t catch one major typo until the very last read-through: ‘he had been empty left-handed’.  

The Amity Park Library was ancient and cramped and smelly and littered with small rooms.  One of the rooms in the far corner of the building overflowed with books on the supernatural.  Tucker grinned a little as he turned the last corner and the room came into sight, figuring that living in one of the world’s most haunted towns was finally going to come in handy.  

The Amity Park Library is based off the library in my home town.  One of those ancient ones with little rooms everywhere and a dark and foreboding basement that nine out of ten people thought was haunted.  I loved my library.

“There has to be something useful here,” he murmured as he stepped into the room and looked around.  “It’s not possible that there’s nothing out there.”

Dropping his backpack on the small table, he walked over to a shelf and scanned some of the titles.  The Field Guide to Ghosts and Other Apparitions seemed interesting, but when he flipped through the book, it seemed to be nothing more than stories of people meeting ghosts.  He wrinkled his nose, classified it as ‘not going to be helpful’, and set it back on the shelf.

The book is actually quite interesting, and can be found in my local library.

His fingers trailed over the shelves for several minutes as he wandered around the room, his heart sinking when nothing jumped out.  He knew that he was secretly hoping for a title along the lines of What to Do When Your Friend Turns into a Ghost even though he was positive that Danny’s situation wasn’t likely to be in a book.  The fact that none of the books were screaming ‘helpful’ in bright neon letters wasn’t a surprise – but it was still depressing.

“Ghosts,” he whispered, prying a book (How to Communicate with Spirits) out from the tightly packed shelves and heading back towards the table, “there’s got to be something helpful somewhere.”  Dropping into a seat, he flipped to the first page and started to read.  

Lmao – I tried to connect this book to the story and was blown out of the water laughing my head off.  The only way it would work was if Danny was an angel or something… or perhaps even God himself.  The book isn’t all that interesting, but tying it to this story made for some fun (if ultimately deleted) moments.

--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--

I like the Danny part, even though I’m adding pieces I hadn’t expected.  The whole portal-plot was added last minute because it got a bit boring.  This was supposed to be nothing more than a father-son chat.  

“Dad?”  Danny stepped off the stairs and glanced around his parents’ basement laboratory.  The aluminum foil-covered walls glittered in the harsh lights and the place looked like a tornado had gone through.  Along one of the walls, the portal into the realm of the dead was glowing softly.

Shivering a little, Danny looked around for his father.  He wasn’t extremely happy about having to be back in the lab; there was something about the portal that made the hair on his neck stand on end.  Now that the portal was turned on and humming softly in the background, the basement had a creepy, haunted feel.

I’m messing with the canonical ‘portal’.  Please forgive me for that.  In my story it’s more of a window and a weak spot in the fabric of the world of the dead, more of a beacon (and battery) to ghosts than a way for them to pass through.  While they CAN dig through it, they mostly won’t.  The ghosts will come from elsewheres, pulled towards the unsuspecting Fenton basement, rather than journeying through it like they do in the show.

“Danny!”  

Danny had to squint to see the large figure in the corner, hidden behind a collection of junk-covered shelves.  His heart dropping and a sigh slipping out from between his teeth at the knowledge that he was going to be stuck in the basement ‘helping’ his father for the conceivable future, Danny made his way across his parents’ lab, giving the portal a wide berth.  “Hey, Dad,” he said sourly when the cluttered table his father was sitting at came into view.

It was the ghost hunting table – a place that had been created years earlier in a vain attempt to keep his parents’ hobby from taking over the entire basement.  A thick layer of random papers covered the tabletop, piles of papers were stacked in random places, photographs of blurred things were taped to the wall, and a teetering pile of books had been relegated to one of the back corners.  His father’s laptop was perched in the middle of the mess, quietly waiting for something to do.

“Grab a chair,” his father said, fiddling with a small camera.  A happy grin flashed across his face and Danny couldn’t help himself from echoing back a smile.  “I want you to listen to something quick.”

Enter the portal-plot that got out of control…

Settling onto the stool, Danny waited while his father set down the camera and reached for his laptop.  Something cold brushed against the back of his neck and Danny flinched, glancing over his shoulder, his eyes drawn almost irresistibly to where the portal waited.  The greenish mist of the portal shimmered and threaded hypnotically, keeping Danny’s gaze a lot longer than he’d intended.  

His eyes narrowed a little as he studied the portal.  It was odd – there was no other word for it.  The portal touched every one of his senses: it had a smell and a taste and a feel and even a sound.  It was humming softly, vibrating through the room like some sort of homing signal.  “…Danny…”  Danny blinked and drew back, startled at the sound of his whispered name, but he didn’t look away from the portal.  Instead, his gaze searched the emptiness of the mists for the creature that had said his name.

A faint hand brushed against the surface of the portal from the other side.  “…What’s your full name, child?…”  The voice was soft, slipped through the room like a sigh, and sounded like it was coming from a million miles away.  “…All ghosts have names.  Tell me yours…”

Actually, the name thing was bound to show up.  In almost all literature relating to the supernatural/paranormal, names tend to have significance.  I figured it was a killer way to incorporate the impending ‘ Phantom’ moniker in a realistic fashion.  He doesn’t want to tell all the ghosts his ‘real’ name, keeping them from gaining some sort of control over him, thus comes up with a nickname.  It also kind of gives the ghosts a reason to have random, odd names beyond a lack of creativity on their part.

I’ve got this random idea to make some sort of subservient/master relationship where ghosts that have given up their true names become ‘bound’ to the ghost masters they serve, a-la the Fright Knight.  I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it yet – or if at all – but that could be interesting should Freakshow ever show up.

Danny found his mouth opening, his brain automatically set to answer the question, but something inside of him rebelled against it.  I’m not going to tell a disembodied hand my name!  

“…Please, Danny?...”

“No,” Danny said sourly, crossing his arms and glaring at the portal.

“What?”

Danny flinched at the sound of his father’s voice, having completely forgotten that the large man was sitting next to him.  With one last glance at the portal to make sure that the ghost was safely on that side, Danny twisted around to look up at his dad, knowing that Jack wouldn’t have heard the ghost’s half of the conversation.  “Nothing.  I was just… thinking,” he muttered as he reminded himself to try to ignore voices coming from the portal from now on.  He wasn’t sure how well it would work, but he was determined to try.

“…Danny…”

One part I had trouble with was all the italics and how I was going to keep the ‘ghosts on the other side of the portal’ separate from the ‘real people’s words’ separate from the ‘garbled recordings’ separate from the ‘recordings of the ghosts’ voices’.  In my own document, I used random fonts.  Obviously couldn’t do that on FFN.  So…  Sorry about the italics and the ellipses and any general confusion.    Tell me if it didn’t work.

His father gazed at him in silence for a second, but then shrugged.  “Listen to this – this is what we recorded out at the Grisbee’s cabin.” Grabbing the computer’s mouse, Jack clicked and sound fizzled through the speakers, full of static.  …iaaaamplassssmiusss… yoooouuinnnnteressssssstmeeee… ghooooossssssstchiiiiiillllld….

Danny’s fingers clenched tightly around the edge of his stool as he listened to the creature’s – Plasmius’s – words on the tape, the ghost on the other side of the portal momentarily forgotten.  “Th-that’s…”  He trailed off, his eyes wide, not knowing what to say.  

…whaaaaaaaataaaarrrrreyooooooouuu…

Shivering at the sound of his own voice, Danny licked his lips at stared at his father, wondering what Jack was going to say.   he recognize my voice?  Is that what this is all about?  Did he finally realize I was telling Mom the truth?  Danny’s heart was beating rapidly in his chest as he waited for the axe to drop, trapped between wanting his father to know the truth and not wanting him to know, waiting for his father to accuse him of being a ghost and demanding an explanation.

Split-seconds stretched into eons as he waited.  An unreadable expression was on his father’s face.  “You heard something, didn’t you?”

Danny nodded, his fingers aching from their tight grip on the chair.

“Mads never does,” Jack said, his face slipping into an easy smile.  “I knew you’d hear it, though.  You’re a Fenton.”  He nudged Danny slightly, then turned back to his computer, murmuring softly to himself.  “That was the normal recording – it’s so full of random sounds and static that you can barely make out what the ghost is saying.  This… this is what I wanted you to hear.  I think I’ve found a filter that’ll get rid of the background noises.”

Oh, btw, meet the very beginnings of the Fenton Ghost Gabber (not yet named or copyrighted).

“Easier?” Danny breathed, slowly releasing his death grip on the stool, confused.  I heard the words just fine.  His forehead creased as he tried to figure out what his father was talking about.  He’d been forced to listen to hundreds of his father’s recordings over the past few years and none of them had been anywhere near that clear.  All the rest of them had been nothing but odd sounds that might, in some universe, have been words.

“Yeah,” Jack said distractedly.  “That was just a normal EVP.  This one should be better but don’t,” he pointed a finger at Danny for a moment, “get into the argument like Mads does that by changing the recordings we’re ruining our findings.  They ‘enhance’ photographs and videos all the time for crime scenes, I’m doing nothing different.”

With a shrug, Danny just quietly watched his father click through the settings on the computer with a tongue stuck partway out of his mouth.  ‘That was just a normal EVP’ he said… but it didn’t sound like it.  That’s got to be the cleanest recording I’ve ever heard.  So why doesn’t Dad have every ghost hunter in the world on the phone by now?  His stomach gave an odd little lurch.  Something’s not right…

“Ready?”  Without waiting for an answer, Jack pressed the play button, a huge smile on his face.

The static was gone.  Plasmius’s words, complete with the echoing screaming and the slicking ooze on his voice, resounded through the basement.  …I am Plasmius.  And you interest me quite a bit, ghost child…

I figured it would make sense for the half-ghost boy to hear the words more clearly than his not-at-all-a-ghost father.

Danny shuddered, tensing for what he knew came next.  …What…  What are you?...  A cold finger slipped down his spine at the sound of his own recorded voice, reverberating with hollow shrieks of pain.

Originally dragged some angst out of this… but it detracted from the story.  Was condensed for an upcoming paragraph and may be moved whole-slaughter to a different chapter.

…Playing twenty questions, are we?... Plasmius came back on, his smile obvious even without the words.  …I am a human created by an idiot in his indomitable que-…

The sound abruptly shut off and Danny looked up at his father with wide eyes, not knowing what to say.  There was a cold pit in his heart and his throat felt tight.  That’s what I really sound like, he thought desperately, horrified by the demonic sound of his own voice.  And Dad heard it…

“It’s that neat?” Jack grinned, his attention fixed on the computer screen.  “You can really make out some of the words now.  Look.”  He set down a piece of paper, his father’s handwriting scrawled across it.  “I spent hours yesterday, and this is what I got out of it.”

Oblivious parents doesn’t even notice the way he son is probably staring at him in terror.

“I am Plasmius.  I am here.  Help,” Danny read softly, shaking his head in confusion.  But… but… that’s not what I heard.  “I… I didn’t…”

“There’s a lot more than what I played.  You have to listen to quite a bit of it to hear the next bit – but did you hear the ‘I am Plasmius’ part?”  Jack looked up at him with an excited smile.  

“Yes…” Danny said slowly, training his eyes down on his paper as the confusion finally melted away.  He didn’t hear what I heard. His mouth was dry as he finally realized that he’d heard everything - an exact recording of what had gone on at the cabin the day before - but his father had only heard small bits of it.  Jack must have heard nothing but a normal EVP reading.  

He blinked at the paper a few times, then looked up at the computer that had played back his conversation from earlier.  Millions of thoughts were crashing around in his head, but only one managed to worm its way out of his mouth.  “EVPs are real,” Danny whispered, a little stunned.  

“EXACTLY!” Jack shouted.

Danny flinched at the sudden shout.  He actually recorded what I said as a ghost.  That’s… weird.  Unable to decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing, Danny stared down at the small notebook and waited for his father to mention what he had planned for the two of them to do that day.  

Something cool and wispy brushed against the back of his neck but Danny fiercely ignored it.  Taking a deep breath, he set the notebook on the cluttered table.  “So… what next?”

“Temperature readings,” Jack said, grabbing a handful of papers and shoving them in Danny’s direction.  “You remember how to go through them?”

With a quiet nod, Danny took the papers and quietly started looking over the flowing numbers, determined to not look up at the portal no matter how loud the ghost called his name.

“…Danny?…”

--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--

Tucker dropped his latest book, Communicating with Spirits</i>, onto the table and buried his head in his arms with a groan.  There was nothing helpful in any of the books he’d read so far!  There was absolutely no information out there to help them figure out what was going on with Danny.  The last book had been even less useful that usual.  

It may not be helpful, but it’s hilarious to read.

To make it all the worse, based off what Danny had told them the previous night and Tucker’s own encounter with the octopus ghost, many of the books were full of nothing but misinformation and bad theories.  Taking a guess, Tucker would have to say that few (if any) of the authors of these books had ever seen an actual ghost.  

Read: my version of ACTUAL ghosts.

“This is so stupid,” he muttered to himself.  “There’s nothing here and there isn’t going to be.”

He rested his chin on his arms and stared at the packed shelves of books.  “How can all of these people write all of these books and none of them be helpful?” he complained sourly.  

You already know you’re not going to find the answer to Danny’s problem in one of these books, Tucker’s mind helpfully supplied.  So you should stop looking.

This conversation with his mind originally stemmed from my rewrite of this chapter where Sam shows up earlier.  I liked the conversation so I kept it… kinda.

“I can’t give up though.”  Tucker’s eyes trailed over the hundreds of books in the small room.  “Danny’s my friend.”

That doesn’t change the fact that there’s no answer in any of these books.

“Shut up,” Tucker murmured.  “There has to be an answer out there.”

His mind was quiet for a moment.  What was the question again?

Tucker shook his head silently, grinding his teeth in frustration.  “I have to find something,” he whispered.  “I have to try to help.”  

Although Tucker didn’t really know what he was looking for anymore – he was positive that the rest of the books in the library wouldn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know – he couldn’t bring himself to stop looking.  He had this feeling in the pit of his stomach that there was something in the library he was going to find… he just didn’t know where to start looking or what to look for.

Oh… but WHAT is he looking for… that’s the question.

Grabbing a new book, Tucker stared down at the cover for a long moment before opening it.  The words swirled a little on the page.  “There’s something here.  I know it.”

--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--

“…Make a wish for me, child…”

Come on, you know which ghost that was…

Danny’s eyes narrowed and his teeth were clenched as he desperately ignored the voices coming from the portal.  None of the ghosts had come through – Danny wasn’t even sure if they could – but a number of them were obviously just on the other side, calling to him.  Danny had the passing thought that he should just answer the ghost and wish for the spirits to leave him alone, but with his father there Danny didn’t dare say anything.

Highlighting a number on the stack of temperature readings his father had given him, Danny wondered if he could talk his father into taking the stuff upstairs and doing this in the not-quite-as-haunted living room.  A strange chill swept through him and he shivered, fighting the desire to rub his arms to get some warmth back in him.

Glimmers of a ghost sense, anyone?

“…Danny?  What’s your name, Danny?…”

Danny hissed softly under his breath, closing his eyes for a moment.  Clenching his fingers tightly around the highlighter, he focused on staying calm and human.  That strange feeling of anger was drifting through his mind and his mind kept muttering that the ghosts were too close.  They needed to back off.  He needed to make them back off.  He needed to fight-

“Danny,” his father said hesitantly.  Danny blinked and looked up, relieved to have some sort of distraction from the ghosts.  Jack shifted uncomfortably, keeping his blue eyes on the computer screen.  “Your mother wanted me to talk to you.”

Cue tense father-son moment, conveniently interrupted by creatures of the ghostly persuasion.

“…Come here, child…”

Trying to push the ghosts to the back of his mind, Danny waited for his father to say something more, his knuckles white around his highlighter.  Shut up, shut up, shut up!  “Yeah?” he asked, hoping to get Jack to continue.

“She’s worried that you’re getting bullied at school or something,” Jack grumbled, fiddling with his camera.  “You’d go tell her if you were, right?”

Danny stared at his father for a long moment, caught a little off-guard.  He knew that his mom had been getting more concerned about Dash lately, but he hadn’t realized it had gotten to the point where even his dad would mention it.  “It’s just normal teenager stuff,” he muttered.  “I can handle it.”

Jack glanced up at him, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation.  “You sure?”

With a nod, Danny looked back down at his temperature readings.  You wouldn’t understand anyway, he thought quietly. It’s not like you were ever bullied in school.  He scanned the list of numbers, silently highlighting a few and trying to figure out something else to say.  It was easier to ignore the whispering portal when his dad was talking.

Evil teenage behavior, assuming adults have never been through what they’re going through and wouldn’t understand when you told them.  I was horribly fond of doing that and I really wish I’d figured out sooner that my parents generally DID understand.

“I got roughed up in school when I was a kid, you know,” Jack said after a minute.  

Danny looked up, arching an eyebrow in disbelief.  “Yeah, right.”  

“I was.”  The large man clicked through a few more of the pictures he’d taken before shrugging.  “I was really clumsy and everyone under the sun knew I was harmless.”  A little smile appeared on his face and he shook his head.  “There was this one girl – she wasn’t even half my size – and she took my lunch money every day for years.”

Rofl… the girl will be back.  Her name was Harriet.

“What’d you do about it?”

“I grew out of it.”  Jack looked up at him and grinned.  “Joined the football team for awhile.”

Danny snorted, thinking over the fact that his main tormentor was the captain of the junior varsity team.  “That’s not really an option for me.”

“You’re a Fenton – you’ll figure it all out.”  

Danny blinked at the pure confidence in his father’s voice even though the man didn’t look up at him.  A small smile drifted onto his face.  “Think so?”

“I know so.”  Jack said and finally set down his camera.  “I also know that we need snacks.  Men cannot work on a Sunday morning without snacks – there’s a fair labor law about it somewhere, I’m sure.”  Standing and stretching, his father grinned at him.  “I’ll play gopher this time.  What you want?”

This is my dad’s law.  I usually had to get the snacks, as I don’t qualify as ‘men’ and thus it was equitable for me to work on Sundays.

“Popcorn?” Danny suggested, knowing that his father was going to grab a bar or two of his homemade fudge.  Popcorn and fudge went well together.

Jack headed towards the stairs, but hesitated and turned back around for a moment.  “Oh, and Danny?”

“Yeah, Dad?”  

“About the ghost thing…”  He stopped for a moment.  “Your mother’s worried…”

“I got it, Dad,” Danny said, just loud enough for the man to hear.  “I won’t bring it up anymore.”

And he won’t.  At least… yeah.  *evil grin*

Jack stood still for a few seconds and Danny felt his gaze on his back.  He wondered if his father would press the issue and try to make him talk; he wondered if he’d allow himself to be talked into talking.  But he heard his father simply turn around and head up the steps.

It wasn’t until the top door clicked softly shut that Danny realized that he was completely alone in the lab for the first time since the accident.  His neck prickled and his stomach clenched as he slowly set down his stack of papers and turned around to stare at the ghost portal.

“…Danny.  Come here, child…”

--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--~--

More of my despairing Tucker section.

Tucker had given up on the books.  

“Idiot, unhelpful library,” Tucker muttered to himself, clicking through the list of websites on the computer with an uninterested look in his eyes.  “Three hours… nothing to show for it.”  Shaking his head, Tucker selected one of the websites he hadn’t yet visited and clicked on the link, half-heartedly scanning the page.  

The truth was finally hitting home and Tucker was doing nothing but solidifying his earliest assessment of Danny’s problems: it wasn’t something they could fix on their own.  With no information, no help, and no resources, Danny’s ghost problem was very clearly over his head.  

And not over his head by just a little, over his head by a lot.  Apples to avalanches a lot.

All of the enthusiasm he’d had earlier about researching ghosts and single-handedly solving his best friend’s problem had completely vanished.  Flicking the scroll wheel on the mouse with his finger, Tucker propped his chin on his arm and gazed at the screen without really reading it.  

“I don’t know where to start,” he whispered.  “I don’t know what to look for.  I don’t even know where to start looking for something to look for anymore.”

His eyes traveled to the notebook that had been tossed next to the computer.  Its pages held hours of notes and scribbled references to the paranormal and the supernatural, many things cross-referenced by several websites and books.  He had quotes and thoughts written by the best and the brightest in the field of the paranormal.  He’d worn out his favorite pen.  And yet he had nothing.

*glances over at her own notebook sitting by her own computer… and the dead pen next to it*  Pray for my pen, peeps.  It was good to me and I’m sad it finally died.  But it went out in a blaze of glory and for a good cause.

“I should just go home,” he muttered, but he didn’t move.  There was still something in his gut telling him he should stay, that there was something to find if only he would look in the right direction.  The knowledge that if he could find the one right clue he might be able to find out more about Danny haunted him and kept him in his seat, quietly clicking through websites.

Lost in his daze, Tucker didn’t notice when another person finally entered the library, walked up behind him, and started to study the computer screen with a lot more interest than he was.  When a hand dropped on his shoulder, Tucker flinched and jerked around.  “Hi,” he started, but Sam simply leaned over him and stole the mouse from his hand.  “Hey!”

Hey… I hate when people do that.

She opened a new internet window.  “I figured it out,” Sam whispered as she brushed his hands off the keyboard.  “I met him last night and I couldn’t get it, but now I have it.”

Completely mystified, Tucker watched as she typed in two words: Vlad Masters.

I told you to wait for it.  Sam’s not as thick as she seems.

--

This part was written in a meeting.  I’ve no idea why it came out the way it did, but I generally liked it, so I kept it.  The vulture sitting on the plane’s wing was doodled all over my meeting notes.

“Finally.”  Vlad settled deeper into the first-class seat of the plane and closed his eyes, determined to put Amity Park behind him once and for all.  This stupid trip had been nothing but a failure – not only had he failed to acquire Axion Labs and save himself millions of dollars, but he also had gotten himself hopelessly entangled with that boy.  

An unconscious smile crept onto his face as he thought about the child with the glowing green eyes.  So powerful and full of potential, there was a million things Vlad could do to help the mysterious boy.  And, undoubtedly, the younger hybrid would like the assistance; living life as creatures that were part ghost was a difficult and lonely task.

There was even a lead to the boy’s identity now – his friend, Samantha Elizabeth Manson.  The girl had eyes that were incredibly unique and impossible to miss.  The instant he’d spotted her at the convention he’d known that he’d seen those eyes before.  It hadn’t taken more than a few moments to realize they’d been at the Nasty Burger with the boy, and it had taken even less time to ask around and get her name.  The answers that she had given had only solidified the knowledge that the girl from the Nasty Burger and the girl at the convention had been one and the same…

I got confused when people started to think that Vlad was feeding off Sam, thus made sure to put that in here.  He was interested in her for MUCH more than her emotions.  Sam is just a normal girl to everyone except my dearest vict… I mean, Danny.

Shaking his head, he dispelled the thoughts settling in his mind.  He would admit to the fact that the boy had been interesting and that he could offer the boy help that nobody else would be able to give, but he was not going to track down the boy like some obsessed ghost.  He was human; he was not subject to doing whatever his ghost wanted to.

Setting a ‘leave me alone’ frown on his face, he opened his eyes and stared out the window at the passing clouds.  I’m going home and forget this whole thing ever happened, he vowed softly.  Maybe track down the boy’s name, send him a letter offering my help, then leave him alone and forget about him.  Put the ball in his court and back off.

Raise your hand if you believe that.  *sees no hands raised*  Smart readers.

He sighed a little as he remembered the look in the boy’s eyes when they’d met, the disgust that had twisted his young face when he’d realized what Vlad was.  Vlad was pretty sure that the reaction had been partially fueled by surprise; it would have faded given some time.  If only he could have reigned in Plasmius’s desire to possess the boy, he probably could have talked the child into coming with him voluntarily.  But Plasmius had gained the upper hand with that faintest wisp of that smell…

Warm apple pies backing in the autumn, heaps of whipped cream ready to be placed on top, the sharp smell of the autumn days, walking to school with thin layers of ice crunching under your feet, the happy days of being together as a family.

Mmm… I love that smell.  Brings back fond memories.

He hadn’t been near that enchanting scent since college, but the smell had been instantly recognizable and completely addicting.  Even now he could still catch the remains of the enticing scent of his old crush and it pulled at him, trying to get him to get off the plane and run back to her.  For so many years he’d purposefully distanced himself from her because his ghost side was just too strong around her and, even though he was allowing himself these few moments to revel in that old feeling of desire, he was going to stay distanced.  

And trying for an excuse as to why he HATED Jack all those twenty years and never did anything until the reunion.  One of the *millions* of things that made no sense about the show.  I always wondered what tipped him over the edge into the ‘invite to the reunion and kill him’ phase.

“What a Hellish town,” he murmured.  “Everything I don’t want in one small package.”

Something flashed in the corner of his eye and Vlad turned his head a little, squinting and pulling a bit of his ghost to the front in order to see which ghost was following him.  One of the vultures was sitting on the wing of the plane, its rotting feathers unruffled despite the fact that it was moving at several hundred miles an hour.

Vlad snarled a little, feeling his ghost side reach up inside of him and claw at his mind.  A reddish gleam entered his eyes as the vulture turned to look at him.  Their gazes met and Vlad’s eyes flashed, an unspoken message passing between them.  Stay and watch.  Report in later.

For a moment, Vlad wondered if the vulture would fight the order – the ghosts were constantly struggling for dominance – but it simply bowed its head.  Letting out a supernatural shriek that set everyone’s nerves on end, the vulture vanished back towards Amity Park.  

“What was that?” the woman seated behind him murmured.  “Hope it wasn’t an engine.”

Yes, me too.  I hate it when planes make eerie noises.

Vlad firmly pushed his ghost side away and crossed his arms, a little frustrated at himself.  Telling the vulture to stay had not been one of his better ideas and he was already regretting it.  He’d have to now return to the town of the young ghost boy and the woman from his memories.

Despite his wishes and thoughts, Vlad knew that he wasn’t done with that town just yet.

In real life, books don’t hold all the answers.

(end chapter 11)