"He was so threatened by me, fearful that I would make a more perfect creation than he, so he exiled me.

Virtually erased me. Passed on stories that I was a threat."

He wasn't dead.

Well, any more dead than he had been, judging from the ringing in his ears, and the way every joint and muscle seemed to ache.
Also, there was something that felt like stone wedged up painfully against his ribs. He doubted the after-after-life would be quite so ironically physical.

God he was tired.

Danny licked his lips, tasting ash. He tried opening his eyes, but he couldn't see anything but darkness. Endless black stretching into the distance.

There were still spots dancing in front of his eyes, and he could still taste the sharp snap of ectoplasm from a fading portal.

A thought floated through his mind, that he should get up and figure out where he was - see if Amity Park was still standing. Another spark of pain rattled up his spine.

The thought faded quickly, alongside his consciousness.

When he next woke, it was dark in a different way.

"When I first felt you, I couldn't believe it…"

Danny blinked blearily, raising a hand to rub at blue eyes. There was no small amount of relief when he found his wrists unchained. He didn't know why he expected to be captured in the first place, but it was good to enjoy the small mercies.

"There's no one like me, but… here you are"

He dragged his gaze up to find the source of the voice, following the flow of shadows to a pale face ringed with rich brown curls.
He supposed the woman could be called beautiful, in an eerie way. Or perhaps he was just so used to seeing ghosts whose spiritual 'self' far outstripped their physical form, that feeling curious little tendrils of spirit nudge against him just wasn't impressive anymore.

He watched with detached interest as the liquid darkness sealed his cuts closed, eased the twanging of his nerves still left over from the lightning strike.

Danny knew he should feel nervous - scared, even.

But… there was something about the energy wrapping around her that felt…. Like a part of him, somehow. A little missing part that called to him and embraced him and was so truly delighted to see him.

She felt like the Portal.

It felt like a welcome home.

The Darkness wrapped her arms around her child, tracing the features that hailed from a world-that-could-have-been. She wondered if the 'Her' from that timeline had been happy - had she destroyed the world her younger brother created, or did they live in harmony?

This child… this sweet little ghost whose core sang to the tune of her own shadows…. Was half human. Somehow, their worlds must have lived side-by-side, if the boy could exist without consuming himself.
So maybe…

Maybe she and her brother could have peace?

–

A/N:

So! Season 11 of Supernatural features a lovely primordial being who predated God and Death, whose powers directly conflicted God's creation - who wanted to make her own 'creation'.
A being made of the First Darkness, who devoured souls and could not be defeated soundly. God and The Darkness needed to be in balance - Separated and contained.
Sound familiar?
My brain immediately snapped to 'Creator of the Ghost Zone, in an Alternate Timeline where Everyone Gets Along At First'
I mean, for chrissake she even has a LAIR.

So, I didn't originally plan for Something Wicked to have any sort of ties with the more recent episodes, but goddamn if that isn't absolutely perfect.

Happy Birthday sapphireswimming. This would be the beginning of Something Wicked's sequel.