Hello friends.

Thank you all for being patient with me, and if you are reading this for the first time, then welcome.

If you have any questions feel free to PM me or leave a review.

Anyway, this takes place in TUE verse, and maybe in season 2 of Supernatural.

Now, let's join the hunt.


Hunted

Danny Fenton is 16 years old. He has shaggy raven hair, blue eyes with green underlays, and a gangly build. He has a splatter of freckles and a smile that could light up a room.

It's been one year since the accident that robbed him of his life.

Danny chewed his cheeseburger thoughtfully. Since the explosion, he'd been on the run constantly.

He took a pen from his satchel and a thin napkin from the dispenser and began scribbling a terrible map.

He'd started at Illinois, where he had previously lived, and had travelled through Indiana, Ohio, and West Virginia. If he kept flying at a good pace, plus some trains, he could make it to North Carolina in a few days.

He took another bite out of his third McBacon Cheeseburger. If he was going to fly for six hours straight tonight, he needed to build up enough calories.

Danny scratched at his neck. He hadn't bathed in a few days, and a rash was starting to build up. Though he didn't think hygiene had anything to do with this. Maybe it was some kind of ghost-moult? He wouldn't know, he hadn't hit ghost-puberty yet.

A slight tingling took him out of his thoughts. A fly had landed on the back of his other hand. He yelped in surprise and, acting on instinct, shot a small green ray out of his finger. The thin ray of plasma incinerated the fly instantly, bounced harmlessly off his own skin, and hit the metal napkin dispenser on the table. It didn't seem to leave any damage, and the metal now looked shinier. After inspecting it for a few more moments, he shrugged, finished his last two burgers, and threw away his garbage. Finally, he picked up his satchel and strolled into the men's room to transform and fly off.

As soon as the bathroom door closed, the front door opened. A huge man with chestnut-brown hair that hung to his chin walked in, looked around, and stepped up to the counter.

Frankie, the cashier, couldn't help but be a bit intimidated. This man was at least 6'4" and built like a football player. His chest looked like it was wider than a tree trunk.

The man ordered a bacon cheeseburger, a grilled chicken salad, two drinks and a slice of pie. Frankie put in the order, have him the order number on the receipt, and turned back to the register.

Sam crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, waiting for his order to come in. Dean was waiting in the car outside and no doubt he was anxious for his pie. He started slipping into deep thoughts when a harsh buzzing from his pocket snapped him back.

He felt for his phone. There it was, but it wasn't buzzing. So what was? It could only be…

He slowly felt for the EMF detector. Yup, that was the source. It was beeping so strongly he was worried Dean would hear it and break in. Sam glanced at the line. Still a few people before his order. So he took out the detector, pulled out the wire and followed it.

The device, of course, warranted a few odd looks. But then again, this was McDonalds. No one really cared.

So Sam followed the device to an empty table near the window. The EMF went wild when he put it on the table. Slowly, he turned it off and sat down. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The salt had been used, so it could have been a false alarm.

"Number 350!"

Shit, that would be him. He got up to leave, but his hand knocked against the salt shaker he had been inspecting. It clattered on its side next to the napkin box. He went to pick it up, but his hand froze. Something was wrong.

Sam frowned. The napkin box had an oddly green sheen to it. He turned the EMF back on and pointed it at the box. The thing practically exploded in his hand.

"350!"

Oh, right. The food. He jogged back up to the counter, took the food, and went back to the table one last time. He took a picture of it with his phone, took one last look around, and walked back out the door.


Danny yawned. The sky over his head was violet and dotted with white pinpricks of stars. He had been flying for four hours so far. He scratched at his collar again with his free hand. He had, a long time ago, forgone his hazmat suit in favor of some simple black jeans and a hoodie, though he kept the white gloves, belt and boots. He couldn't bring himself to get rid of Sam's logo, though, and stuck it on the back of the hoodie. The rest of the suit he'd folded up and packed with the rest of his clothes. He had his backpack on his back and his satchel draped across his body, his left hand gripping the strap.

The clouds threatened a storm which would bring some strong headwinds. Which would mean he'd have to land earlier than planned. He flew a little higher so he could see better, his spectral tail forming a black streak behind him. Danny yawned again and ceased his scratching. The whatever-it-was had grown in size, probably a reaction from the cold. In his ghost form the rash was green and glowed slightly, much like his eyes and freckles, which made it more prominent. Having glowing green blood was weird sometimes.

Danny decided to light his palm to keep himself from sleeping. A soft, lime-green glow emanated from his right hand. His core throbbed in protest from the sudden ebb in his strength, which only worsened his condition, so he let the glow die and snatched up his flashlight.

In ghost form, he didn't really need sleep, and the closest thing to sleep was a sort of trance, waking dreams if you will. Unfortunately, this built up his exhaustion like a lake with a dam until he would inevitably transform back to a human and collapse on the spot.

Only then did Danny realize he was back beneath the clouds. He must have been slipping in his fatigue and barely noticed. A single raindrop landed on his nose. Just as his thoughts stopped dripping like molasses and he was able to recognize that it was, indeed, a raindrop, lightning surged in the clouds above and he dove for the ground.

He strove to remember the things he'd learned from storm-flying. Look for the patterns of movement and take note of the formations. They can help you guess where the wind is strongest and the direction it's blowing in.

He found, finally, a clear way to the ground. He was flying above a dormant road with no cars in sight, so without hesitation he dropped onto the asphalt with a slight pad of his white boots.

Danny initiated his nightvision. The intensity of his glowing eyes increased, and he looked around for a place to shelter out the storm. He resented having to land so early but, hey, storms were not fun to fly in. The road paved through clear lands. He sighed and rose off the ground.

He skimmed over the ground by about two or three feet and kept that height as he sped like an arrowhead through the chilly air. At last, in the distance, he spotted the telltale flickering lights of a motel. He increased his speed with a flicker of hope in his nuclear-green eyes.

Danny set his feet on the blacktop under the awning with a soft pip and shook like a dog. Droplets of water shot out of his white hair. He turned intangible for a moment to allow the water on his body to pass straight to the floor, leaving his clothes and skin totally dry.

Now for the difficult part.

Bracing himself against the wall, he searched with his mind for a small nub that stuck out of his consciousness like a sore thumb. He found it and pushed, which allowed a pair of spectral rings to manifest at his waist and transformed him back into the pale, scrawny human kid.

Immediately the exhaustion of the past few hours struck him like a brick and he grunted into his chest. His face suddenly felt cold and his hands clammy. He panted and hauled himself back up to his former position and, leaving a hand on the brick wall for support, walked around to the entrance. The place was fairly nice, he decided. There was even a few plush chairs in the front.

He followed the usual routine - check in with a random name, pay, get the key. Danny had accumulated a huge wad of cash stowed away in his satchel. A combination of unused birthday money, I'm-sorry-for-your-loss money, and stolen-from-rich-asshole-of-an-uncle-money. It was enough to last him years, especially with the credit card he'd swiped from aforementioned asshole uncle for emergencies. He was sure Vlad had to have known by now that one of his multitude of cards had been stolen, but let him keep it out of pity for his recent losses. After all, according to Clockwork, the guy had been willing to rip the ectoplasm out of Danny's body to relieve his pain.

Before he went up to his room, he needed to sit down for a few minutes. His body was shaking heavily and he couldn't stand for much longer.

Danny stumbled to the lounge area and plopped down into a plush chair. It was so comfortable, maybe he could just take a nap…

No. He had to keep moving. He looked at the key in his hands. 413, it said. He began to drift into a stupor when he was shaken awake by a peculiar scent.

His nose, more sensitive than any human's, much like his other senses, detected something. Silver, metal, leather, cologne, and…blood?

Two large men were standing at the counter, she shorter one leaning against it and flirting with the clerk. The much larger one was doing something on his phone.

Danny frowned. He was getting some bad vibes from these two. Something about them made his instincts want to scream, go away, go as far away from these men as fast as you can! Leave!

The big one frowned and pulled something out of his back pocket, like a bigger phone. He papped the smaller one on the shoulder and pointed to the big phone, then gestured toward the lounge. Danny froze.

The two men shared some hushed words, the short one said something over his shoulder to the clerk, and they both started walking towards the lounge area.

Towards Danny.

Danny decided that he was fully rested and ready to visit his room then, and headed for the hall where it was situated.


Sam followed Dean into the motel. It was kind of okay, it could even pass for mediocre. A few people were sitting in some kind of lounge in the front, including a sleeping kid. Sam smiled to himself; it kind of reminded him of his childhood, waiting in similar chairs for Dean and John to get the room.

"Hey there doll face, what're you doing tonight?"

Sam rolled his eyes and turned his attention from his brother to his phone. He tried some more sites to research, but none were very reliable. There was one site - - it looked like it was run by a family of ghost hunters, but it hadn't updated in a little over two years. Good thing too, because while their techniques were a bit eccentric and possibly useful, they were ultimately amateur when it comes to real, vengeful spirits.

A loud BUZZ from his back pocket made Sam frown. Two alarms in one night? Maybe it was on the fritz. He pulled the EMF out of his pocket and read it. He slowly rotated with the detector in hand to let it pan the whole room.

The thing looked like it was going to scream when it was pointed at the lounge area. Sam looked up. The kid was awake and staring at him.

Something about those eyes made him shudder. Not the demon-black eyes that could make anyone uncomfortable, but those two blue eyes just seemed to bore right through him.

Sam turned around and whapped Dean on the shoulder. Dean turned around, an annoyed look on his face.

"What gives, Sammy?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Dean, look." He showed his brother the EMF. Dean suddenly looked interested.

"Think this is related to the green whatever you showed me?"

"Maybe, but not likely. We're pretty far away."

"Wanna check it out?"

Receiving a curt nod, Dean turned around and scribbled his number on a post-it, then handed it to the clerk he'd been flirting with. With a "See ya, sweet cheeks," thrown over his shoulder, the two started toward the chairs.

The kid, who'd been watching them, suddenly stood and stretched. He scratched his neck and walked down the hallway.

The EMF quieted down.

The brothers shared a look, and followed the kid.


They were following him.

Danny knew that without a doubt.

His enhanced hearing picked up the steps of their boots from the end of the hall. He was still exhausted, and using his powers might make him black out.

Still, it was a risk he had to take.

Danny turned a corner and pressed himself against the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself out of sight. When he opened his eyes and looked down, he saw only carpet. Perfect.

His core, though, said otherwise. It throbbed angrily, threatening to shut down his systems. He was too worn out for this.

Just a little longer...

The two men turned the corner. The big one - seriously, that guy was as tall as Jack and almost as broad in build and with muscle - was still holding the brick-like device, which whirred like crazy when they neared Danny.

He gulped.

The slightly smaller one nodded at the big one, and reached into his duffel. Danny watched with growing horror as he pulled out what looked like a short-barreled shotgun. Who were these people?!

"Here, ghosty ghosty..." he said softly. The big one elbowed him in the side.

These two were obviously a few leaves short of a tree, Danny thought.

The shorter one took a step closer. Danny held his breath. His core threatened to shatter and burst from his sternum. He was going to pass out.

The two showed no signs that they were leaving. It was suddenly very difficult to breathe. Both his core and his heart were drumming. His head was swimming. Was it getting hot in here or was his core melting? Cold sweat coated his body. He didn't have the energy for this.

He held his hands in front of his eyes. His pale skin flickered in and out of existence. The men were watching with confusion.

And then everything went black.


"...What the hell just happened?" Dean said as they stared down at the unconscious kid on the floor.

"I have no idea," Sam responded. He hesitantly knelt and put a hand on the kid's forehead. Somehow it was hot and cold at the same time. "He needs help."

"Help? The kid jut pulled a disappearing act on us! And look at the EMF! He's possessed or something. No, Sam, he doesn't need help."

"Did you see his face? He was terrified! We need to let him wake up, and then get some answers."

Dean looked down and frowned thoughtfully.

"Fine. But if this goes wrong, I'mma pound your ass in hell."

He pulled a pair of iron handcuffs out of his duffel and handed them to Sam, who snapped them onto the kid's wrists. He cringed as the kid's skin sizzled under the contact.

"Hey Dean, look at this."

He pointed to the rash on the kid's neck.

"So what? The vessel's got a skin condition," Dean disregarded it with a wave of his hand.

"Dean, vessels don't get rashes. And it looks new - maybe a few days to a week. If the ghost was able to turn its vessel invisible, it would have had a much longer time than a week to get a grip on its abilities. No, this rash is definitely his. He's not possessed, so...what is he?"

Sam stood up and looked down at his brother, who looked up at him, dumbfounded, then turned to look at the kid.

"Who the hell knows, Sammy?"


Welcome to the hunt.

-Sophs.