Ghost Hunting - Target: Danny Phantom

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom.

A Danny Phantom FanFiction By: The Rose Blue Prince


"Immature love says: 'I love you because I need you.' Mature love says: 'I need you because I love you.'"

- Erich Fromm


Danny, and the majority of the human race, has always thought that ghosts are malicious. Ghosts are evil. Ghosts are blood thirsty, territorial, violent beings with no motive or thoughts except to cause and instill fear into the hearts of their prey. Fangs bared, claws unsheathed, snarling in a very feral, animalistic manner right in the face of their newest human toy.

Because ghosts are nothing more than an ectoplasm based, physical - or, at least, existent - projections of post-human consciousness, with no humanity or morals to speak of.

...Right?

Well, truth be told, all of those things are wrong. Which, in turn, makes the humans' view of ghosts in general wrong. Because, you see, they don't want to do anything.

They're not even supposed to exist.

I created them; I ripped their screaming souls back from the quiet afterlife with my own claws, their previously peaceful souls shocked and scared, thrashing and tearing at me in an attempt for me to let go of them. I will admit, most of them are quiet hard to hold onto, their wills' simply refusing to be torn away from Heaven (Valhalla, Paradise, etc.), but eventually they give up and let go, limp in my arms, eyes dull and hallow.

I become their puppet master, I have my hands on their strings and am in complete control. It fills me with a distant joy to know that I can cut those strings at any time, making their dead souls fade from existence.

But I don't. Because why would I even waste the effort? You can't win a war without an army, after all.

You may now be asking, however are these broken, lifeless souls the ghouls and night terrors that haunt the Human Realm and its inhabitants? Well, you see, I fill them with life, I give them a new identity, a new name.

A new purpose.

And trust me; I have a vivid imagination.

My aura flares brightly, and I pick their new identity, or costume, as I refer to it as. The former shell writhes in pain as the transformation begins, their very being rejecting the change by instinct. They scream in pain, an agony filled screech that echoes and reverberates in sharp, high-pitched tones through my expanse, horror filling their widened eyes.

But, yet again, they go limp in my arms once the transformation is complete. And this time, I let their breathless, translucent forms go to drift in my dimension aimlessly before they wake up, having only the memory of the new existence I've given them and being filled with the unquenchable thirst for fear.

Human fear.

Most find their way out of my realm through portals, squirming their way into the Mortal Plane. I can distantly see the hesitation in their eyes; they know that place looks familiar, and the pull of humanity and mortality is strong at first, but I am able to crush that pitiful desire even from across a dimension, and the ghosts then proceed to wreak havoc on the world that was once theirs and yet they can't remember.

It's beautiful really. The pure irony of their actions. Their need for fear from the race they used to belong to; the need that's as strong as a drug. The screams that claw their way out of the weak humans' throats at the sight of my creations, my ghosts.

Simply delicious.

To this very day, and most likely for the many days to come, I still tear unsuspecting souls from the place they call home. I used to feel the tiniest hint of guilt, a small phantom whisper in the back of my mind, that maybe what I was doing was wrong, and that I should stop. But I'm way over that now, the way I see it is this; everyone, living, dead, or somewhere in between, is created to be my toy, my marionette.

My dollhouse army grows, stronger and larger, by the hour, and no one, not a one, even realizes it.

Yet more irony that tastes simply delectable in my mouth. I licked my phantom lips delicately, my smooth tongue catching the drops of black, tangible fear and sweet, crimson blood.

But then... my perfectly constructed world started to fall apart. I saw, in my mind, a human boy with crystalline blue eyes stare warily into the depths of what appeared to be a doorway.

A doorway into me.

I screamed at him from within the Realm of the Afterworld, snarling dark things at the raven haired boy to get him to turn back, to not attempt to enter the giant metal hole in the wall. For he may not know that it will work, but I do.

The portal will work. And then I'll be exposed. Exposed to that horrible race that calls themselves human.

But my voice doesn't seem to carry to this boy's mind. He seems special for some reason, and after I stop screeching the dark words at him, I blink, my curious black eyes swirling with the green of interest.

This boy, this seemingly simple human boy, is immune to my power.

This has never happened before.

So, as this boy enters the metal maw that I just know will spell his demise, I sense something else different about him.

Cyrokenesis. A very mild form of it is contained within him, swirling around his beating heart like a coiled up snake. It hissed at me when I poked at it with my mind.

Very well, human, I purr, now sitting back and observing, curious, You may enter my realm. But beware; no enterance comes without a cost.

My warning brushes up against the boy's skin like a dagger, and I feel my mouth slide into a cruel smile as he stumbles, shocked at the power in my voice.

And then his gloved hand presses down on a green button that was previously shrouded in the shadows, and makes a small click.

A brilliant light so bright flashes before my eyes that for a moment, I have to close my eyes against the onslaught. But I can still hear just fine.

The boy screams, the sounds being ripped out of his throat by all of the electricity coursing through him. Now, I have seen a lot of deaths (it sort of comes with being labeled 'The Realm of the Dead') and I have to say that death by electrocution is probably one of the most painful.

A twinge of pity pulled at my silent heart at the thought of such a unique human being fried to death.

But then, I gasped. I felt a part of me being pulled toward where the boy was. Some of myself was fusing with him, thanks to the immense amount electricity.

I felt a new ghost being made - made, not ripped from the Afterlife - and my eyes widened in surprise. It felt like nothing I'd ever felt before.

It felt... amazing.

But then I realized that to become a brand new ghost, to go straight from living to undead, it required some of my energy.

I desperately tried to pull myself away, but the pull of the portal was too strong, and all of a sudden, I felt like a small part of me had been sliced off.

The now white-haired boy had just fallen out of the portal, his small body sending up small, barely noticeable wisps of smoke toward the - lab? - ceiling as sparks of green electricity arched across his body.

His suited chest did not move. He did not breathe.

He was dead.

...And yet not at the same time.

He was a ghost, only this time, he had taken a part of me with him, instead of I taking apart of him. This boy had never know the Heaven that most departed souls knew. He was trapped in the mortal plane.

Only one other had ever accomplished that feat...

...And that meant...

I felt myself smiling again, my soulless black, green-flecked eyes bubbling with a need so intense, I almost couldn't handle it.

This human was now a hybrid. One of two, but yet... even more unique than the first one.

This human was now a ghost. A ghost formed in a unique way.

This half-human was now a target.

My target.

My charcoal smile turned wicked, lightning flashing in my eyes. Oh, yes, he would be mine. He would be mine.

I turned my gaze back to the boy, turning away, for the moment, from my newly forming scheme. I chuckled darkly, an echoing sound that made one feel like a shard of ice was being sliced across their back, as I saw one of his newly green eyes open, dazed and unfocused.

The boy, the phantom, then closed his eye, too exhausted to even manage to keep it open, and it closed, the radioactive green - my green - disappearing for the moment.

He looked eerily peaceful like that on the cool metal floor; not quite asleep and not quite awake, but wonderfully, wonderfully dead.

I almost wanted to pick him up and bring him into my Zone, for he did not really belong in the Human World anymore. But... he didn't fully belong in the Ghost World either.

So many complications... I wish this was simpler... like it had been with that other hybrid; just letting him exist had been good enough...

But... now I... I care about this young Phantom.

And it was scaring me. I had never cared for anything other than myself, my ideals, my goals, ever in my life. This feeling... it was just so... alien to me...

I felt the need to breathe, to gasp for air; cool, clean, crisp air. But I couldn't; I had no lungs to speak of. So I just let my phantom chest remain unmoving, still, frozen.

Suddenly, two other young humans that I hadn't noticed noticed before rushed forward, toward their fallen comrade.

I felt my locked up emotions flare angrily, threatening to burst out of my carefully constructed box. They should not touch him. They could not take him from me. He was mine. I created him.

I snarled at the human younglings, hate burning in my eyes as they reached the ghost boy, ready to pick him up and drag him away from me.

They would hurt him, I just knew it. No human understood a ghost. It just wasn't possible; they were polar opposites in every way.

And, if I was completely honest with myself, I didn't really fully understand this particular ghost either.

But that was beside the point.

I pushed against the portal wall, forcing some of my energy into the human world. My eyes flashed brightly as I strained against the Mortal World's hatred at my unauthorized entrance.

But I didn't care.

Carefully, I wrapped my energy around the newly formed, unconscious ghost. I whispered in his ear, tenderly, soothingly, my words lined with a barely concealed command layered in ice.

Phantom, I breathed in my chilled voice, the sound coming out like how a cat taunts its prey, fangs bared, purring. A dimension away and yet still so close, Come home.

I watch in an emotionless fashion - or, it would be, if a smirk was not now gracing my lips - as the ghost stirred on the cold metal floor. His friends stop cold, not even a foot away. There was a moment's pause.

Then, the girl spoke.

"...Danny?" My lips curled upward even higher at the sound of the name. Danny... the Phantom. How lovely.

As I listened to her shaky voice echo off the wall of the lab and took notice of her body language and facial expression, and it was clear to me that she was scared.

She sounded scared, and I could practically see the black wisps of fear radiate off of her form and float through the air, slicing through it like steel-tipped arrows. Her face looked scared, her purple eyes darting toward the door as if she wanted to run from the room screaming.

I rolled my eyes at the pitiful girl. Pathetic human...

I brush the young ghost again with my energy, careful not to be too forceful; like a brush painting a delicate rose petal on a canvas. I didn't want to break him, after all.

At least... not yet, anyway.

Phantom - Danny - stirs again. Both of his eyes open and this time they're focused, the green of death flaring within the irises, dancing with an unfamiliar frozen joy.

Shakily, he got to his feet, confused and most likely in a dull form of pain - the dead didn't feel pain very well. He looked up and locked eyes with the two other human younglings in the room, cocking his head to the side slightly as he took in their horrified expressions and flight-like postures.

"Guys... what's wrong?"

Phantom's voice echoed around the room, bouncing from wall to wall in a creepy, supernatural melody that sounded like he was speaking from faraway.

Just as the dark-skinned male human with the shaking knees was about to speak, I made my move.

I tugged at the hybrid with my tendrils of energy, using much more force than before.

The white haired boy widened his eyes before turning around with a supernatural speed, then stopped dead, eyes locked on the swirling energies of the portal, before shivering, a strange blue mist leaking out of his mouth.

Hmm... so he can sense me. Interesting.

The ghost boy's white boots barely made a sound as he walked toward the portal, only stopping once he was barely an inch away from it. Cautiously, he rose a gloved hand up - not even taking notice of its inverted color - and lightly touched the thin, swirling green barrier.

I could practically hear Phantom's nonexistent breath hitch in his throat as another shiver passed through his frame.

Sparkling eyes never leaving the portal, the boy stated, "It works."

He slowly lowered his hand from the veil-like barrier and sighed, blowing up a few strands of glowing bangs in the process.

Glancing warily up at the portal one last time, he turned around to face the other humans in the room, steadily meeting their terrified gazes.

"I guess what my parents tried to tell me is true..." Phantom began wobbling on his feet, eyes sliding closed, "...Ghosts really do exist..."

Another shiver gnawed at his spine and he shuddered, breath turning blue and floating toward the ceiling.

Then the phantom fell forward, unconscious, his light body barely making a sound as he hit the hard floor.

"Danny!" The two humans yelped at once, eyes widening, surprised. They started running toward the hybrid, obviously pushing pass their fear and noticing their concern for the first time.

The three shared blood and yet it took them this long to realize that he needed help? Humans are unbelievable.

I remembered my thought from earlier; the humans would hurt my ghost. They were a species driven by fear, and ghost stories had a long dark, and rich history in their culture.

Ghastly ghouls that harvested the sweet tasting fear that radiated off of humans, drinking it in without remorse; their only goal to be horrors and cause as much fear as possible.

Of course, the tales aren't wrong, but their memory certainly didn't help in a situation like this.

Once the two young humans figured out what had happened to Phantom they would... no. No.

I couldn't let that happen.

I was responsible for ghosts, they were my beautiful creations, and I wouldn't let anyone, or anything, hurt them. And if that meant protecting a half-human ghost as well, then so be it.

I figure that my army of dolls always has room for one more puppet.

I flashed my eyes, flooding them with my acid green aura, and wrapped a tangible tendril of energy around Phantom's boot, and pulled, dragging him into the Ghost Dimension through the portal.


A/N: I'm debating whether or not to continue this. I think I should but I'm not sure. Eh... I certainly do like it, though. *Smiles*

Anyway, I think I'm in love with the DxGZ pairing. Seriously, it feels so amazing to write (even though this part didn't have a lot of solid fluff or anything). Because, honestly, the canon can go light itself on fire for all I care.

Thanks for reading, and (maybe) see you next time!