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Kindred Spirits Complete	By : RedelliaValentinos Category: +1 through F > Danny Phantom Views: 507 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom, I don't own any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from writing this story, I write this purely for the enjoyment of writing. It's just me and a keyboard and my wild brain.

Chapter List
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For all of his bitterness, for all of his hatred, frustration and rage towards the town, Vlad does occasionally find himself homesick. It's not a welcome feeling. Amity Park is a dull, quiet town with uninteresting people. If the feeling niggles at his brain, it usually just takes five minutes of Amity's newsfeed to tell him he's missing out on counting the ceiling tiles in his office. So when that obnoxious little ache for home comes stumbling into his thoughts, he turns on the television and hopes there might actually be something interesting going on. There never is, and it seems to settle him down again for a while.
Feeling lonely and wanting for his hometown, for the first time in a few years, Vlad pours a cup of coffee with a sigh and pads into the library. It's late in the day. He's not expecting much. He's already changed back into his nightclothes and pulled on his robe. The few times he's turned on Amity Park news, he wound up tuning it out in favor of counting the stitches in his knitted throw pillow.
So when he flops unceremoniously onto the couch and grabs the remote, he keeps the pillow close by. The TV powers on and he takes a sip...
"-till no word on Daniel Fenton's condition. It was at 3:48pm on March 4th that his sister, Jasmine Fenton, reported an accident in the home. The nature of the accident still hasn't been disclosed at this time, but Daniel Fenton was seen being taken away in an ambulance one month ago today. Thick gray smoke was seen coming off of his body, the boy completely unresponsive when paramedics arrived..."
Vlad sits. And stares. And stares. And stares. The anchorwoman's voice lost to the white noise of his memories. The footage of the ambulance burns into his retinas slowly while the incessant beeping of heart monitors floods his ears. The sounds of nurse chatter, families arguing, patients crying and snoring, and the stench of antiseptic and alcohol all around him flood his senses and for a moment, he's back in the hospital. Waiting for his friends to visit him. Waiting to see them. To hear them. Listening for Jack's booming voice. And it never comes. They never come. They never visit. The only guest in his room is the night shift, to change his bandages.
Vlad blinks the tears away, banishing the memories to the darkest little corner of his mind and sees the television again. Showing a head of black hair through the gray smoke. As the stretcher is lifted into the back of the ambulance, a hand falls over the edge, too small, seemingly lifeless, pale, fingertips and nails charred deathly black. Another accident. Another one. The Fentons. Have had. Another. Accident. And it's not some clueless friend hanging around them that's taken the damage. It's a child. Their child. Their son. Faintly, in the file footage, "IT WORKS!"
...Vlad's heart turns rotten at seeing them run back into their home as the camera pans to follow the ambulance.
"As shown by Jack and Maddie Fenton eagerly demonstrating a new ghost hunting tool, it's quite clear the boy's parents are in high spirits that he'll make a full recovery. We tried speaking with Daniel's sister, Jasmine Fenton, last month, but she had joined the paramedics in the ambulance. We're hoping for an interview with her later this evening, along with an update on her brother's condition. We hope to bring that report to you tonight, at eleven."
The mug in Vlad's hand shakes as rage stirs inside of him. Wild energy, dangerous and uncaged, crackles to the surface of his skin in vibrant pink static. That fat idiot and the love of his life are attempting to 'wow' the crew with another hunk of junk while a child is left in critical condition. And judging by the look on their faces, Vlad is feeling as though the Fentons have forgotten about him. Him...and their son.
The mug shatters the TV screen, and Vlad walks out, up to his room. If he's going to visit, he's going to be dressed properly. His robe and silk pajamas are traded for a black suit, one of his finest. He opts for a proper necktie. He'd prefer the string tie, but he's storming in unannounced amongst rabble he's not met with in twenty years. He has to look his best. It doesn't take him long. He pairs his suit with black winterboots and his favorite black overcoat, and maybe he cinches the belt a little too tightly. But he doesn't care. It is winter after all, and he does get cold, even with his fire core. The next things he grabs are his wallet, keys, his phone and his black fur gloves. As he puts them on, pressing between his fingers, he thinks back to a letter that arrived to the mansion fourteen years ago. It announced the birth of the second Fenton child, whom he'd never bothered to learn the name of because he was still bitter with Jack at the time.
'Daniel Fenton,' he reminded himself.
But it also included a form to fill out and sign. He'd filled it out, admittedly while completely rat-arsed, however he never officially signed it. But he kept it, anyway. Now, more than ever, he wanted to sign it. And Vlad Masters dumped his third dresser drawer out to expose a hidden compartment. He phased his hand through for the contents, not having the patience to trip the latch.
Two papers, stapled together and fourteen years yellow. The header, "Minnesota Designation of Standby Guardian," was permanently etched into his memory. The Fentons had sent it to him with their signature already on it. It even granted him guardianship over their daughter. He just had to finish it. And he would, and did, with a fountain pen fed by black ink and unchecked hatred. He folded them neatly, with great precision, and tucked them into his coat. It might be his last clear-headed moment for a while, so if it was worth doing, it was worth doing right.
"Daniel Fenton." He rolls the name over his tongue, trying it out. It's foreign. New. He'll get used to it, he decides, Ancients help him.
'To the portal!' his mind screams. His body complies. With haste. With speed. With urgency. He doesn't realize he's flying through his own halls, barreling at breakneck speed to his lab. His fangs drop and the halo splits so fast that an electrical charge floods the room. Computers short. Monitors fail. The lights of his lab go dark as he forces the portal doors open and charges into the void.
He didn't know what he'd find when he got there. He wants to imagine that the Fentons are there, in the hospital, surrounding their son. He wants to imagine Maddie at the bedside, imagine Jack conversing with the doctor. Even though he knows that it's all a lie, he wants to imagine friends going in and out of the room throughout the day. He wants to imagine a boy he's never met surrounded by anyone and everyone under the sun. He doesn't know this boy. He's never met him, never seen him beyond the photo of him swaddled in a fluffy blue blanket in his mother's arms. But he's answering a sudden call to be there and stand in the way of the flames. He's headed out of state, by way of ghost zone back-roads, for someone that's been harmed by the very same people that hurt him.
Floating doors and heaps of realm and rock fade in and out of sight as he searches for the new doorway. The doorway that wasn't even there until one month ago. The doorway that he couldn't believe he was now going through, now that he had need of it. He recognizes the mess in the basement. The mess that signifies Jack Fenton. A twitch comes to his left eye. The man always was a slob. A tornado in a tidy room. The bull in the china shop. The uninvited wrecking ball to the library.
He doesn't ponder on any more metaphors, too focused on phasing through the house that had shockingly little security. Especially considering the ghost portal that was just wide open for all of the Realms to see.
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Kindred Spirits Complete