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Kindred Spirits	By : RedelliaValentinos Category: +1 through F > Danny Phantom Views: 206 -:- 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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- 23
The next several days found Danny restless and confused. As he tried to understand why Vlad had shut himself away, all the reassurance in the world from his sister didn't put him at ease. He wondered, wandering through the manor, what had happened. What he could have done. What had he done to upset him. And even when Jasmine tried to tell him that he hadn't done anything, that it wasn't his fault and Vlad would just have to get through this himself, he just couldn't settle. Something must have happened while they were in the Ghost Zone. It couldn't have been from him falling to his instincts and running off. Could it?
Danny shakes his head and starts to pass by Vlad's bedroom door. He has a faint urge to try the knob. To push through. Phase through. See if he's willing to talk. He reaches for the polished wood, letting his fingers just brush the surface. He nearly attempts a turn, until memories of never having time to himself flood his mind. Years of his parents just bursting into his room to show off a new build yank his hand away. And they've built a lot of junk over the years. He remembers the morning they woke him to show off the Fenton Bat. That morning, he remembers all too well. It pissed him off something fierce, being woken up suddenly at five in the morning for a cheap baseball bat with Sharpie scribbled on it. He pulls away and keeps walking, wringing his hands and fussing his fingers together in his anxiety.
But the silence was overwhelming. Jasmine tried distracting him with food, but to no real avail. He nibbled, mostly, taking little mouse bites at his meals. Preparing his favorite foods didn't seem to work, either. The redhead was nearing her wit's end faster than she realized. Six days into this slump the man has gotten himself into, with the six day byproduct of her brother going off his feed, she's ready to pull her hair out. Jasmine knows that Vlad needs the time to process whatever it is that's broken him down. She might be able to help if he would just tell her more, but he outright refused. She knows that he needs time to accept whatever is coming around the bend. But Danny can only eat so much in a day, and he's eating even less, now. It doesn't bode well for his overall health.
She draws the line one morning when she sees him step on the scale and reads him at eight and a half pounds less than he was ten days ago. And yelling at him for stress starving will only make it worse. Instead, she glares at the digital readout, huffs only a single breath and storms out. Danny wants to follow, but he's too tired, feels too drained. He crawls back into bed, sluggishly curling up under the blankets and flopping like a stone.
Jasmine marches up the stairs and down the hall.
-
He's taken her words to heart. He hasn't touched a drop of alcohol since that night. But processing, swallowing and accepting the circumstances that were so carelessly rendered upon him is no small task on a sober mind. He'd prefer to drown himself for however long it might take to come to terms with this mess he's permanently buried under. His liver would recover. And though he'd never officially sworn to the girl that he would abstain from his cabinet, her words were spoken nigh on pain of death, polished and sharp. So he listened.
But for the sake of his own sanity, what little he had left to maintain in his state, he needed to avoid the boy. His gut was roiling with discomfort and disgust at the very suggestion of what Frostbite had said.
He hasn't eaten in days. He's been pacing his room, rocking in the corner and sleeping through the bouts of hunger. Pulling at his hair, shoving the contents of his vanity onto the floor, clawing at the furniture in fits of rage. His quarters are a disaster. The finely carved posts of his bedframe are wretched and ruined. The blankets are scattered, partially hanging off the bed and stretched out onto the floor, some almost entirely and only hanging on by a corner and the mercy of a weighted blanket. The walls are scratched where stone is bare and tapestries in tatters where they hang in the way.
But he's handling it just fine, thank-you very much.
That's not what Jasmine seems to think, however, when she summons her mother's strength and literally kicks his door in. And he knows she used her leg to do the work because he catches her foot slamming down just in time. He's slightly inclined to admit he's startled.
"It wasn't locked," is all he can muster through his surprise.
She doesn't blink. Instead she enters and slams the door shut behind her and approaches. "You are self destructing. And while I can't possibly fathom whatever it is you're going through, it is affecting my brother."
Vlad sighs and sits on the edge of his mangled bed, leaning against a fraying post.
"He's not eating."
"I don't see how that's my fault. I should think with Jack and Maddie for parents that you'd have learned how to cook a decent meal yourself."
The echo of flesh contacting flesh as his head suddenly snaps ninety degrees to the right leaves his ears ringing.
"He's worried that he's done something to upset you, that he's done something wrong. You've made yourself so damn prevalent to his life in the last few months and now you've cut yourself out, what else is he supposed to think?!"
He looks back at her in mild terror.
"Get out of this room, go downstairs, cook for him yourself, and talk to him. Whatever has you bent out of shape is clearly ghost related because you won't talk to me."
-
He can't tell her. He just can't. As Vlad makes his way down the stairs and Jasmine watches with folded arms and a foul glare, he bites back the retorts on his tongue. Part of him knows he should tell her, considering how it may affect things a few years down the road. But to tell her now...she may very well decapitate him. She's as intelligent as her mother, but she's far more aware of herself and her surroundings. And it makes for a horrid combination. A she-wolf with the capacity for human emotion and the knowledge to take his mind apart. Wether or not he'd be a willing subject is an entirely different matter.
Vlad nudges the door to Danny's room open quietly and goes over to the bed.
Danny, drowsy, weak, blinks his eyes open to look and sighs. The older halfa can't decide if it's from relief or annoyance. He struggles to get himself upright and Vlad pulls him up out of bed. He helps him stand, and he feels the difference in weight. He decides against chastising him. It wouldn't do any good, anyway.
The walk to the kitchen is slow. Danny's become frail and shaky. Trembling in general weakness and the effort to just walk down the hall. His complexion has grayed some, the pallor making Vlad uncomfortable. It's not quite the same weakened state he worked so hard to get him out of when he first woke. It's more deeply rooted. Vlad peers into the energy trailing off of him and winces. Even his core has physically slowed in its rotation. But the boy persists and pushes himself forward. They're just at the kitchen doorway when his legs give way. He feels ready to just flop on his side right there on the floor and sleep for eternity.
Vlad sighs and pulls his shuddering form back up, into his arms. He almost expects to be clung to just gets more upset with himself when he doesn't. He places him in a chair at the island. There's a distinct, drained slouch to his sitting, head hanging low while he tries to lean into the back of the chair for support.
Vlad feels...something, suddenly. Something different. There's the discomfort rendered by Danny's starved complexion and there's the guilt from being the cause of his state. But a new feeling crawls into his heart, strange and foreign, weaving its way through cracks and voids of stone. Unsure of what to call the sensation, he opts to ignore it. Instead, he goes to the freezer and pulls a pack of meat out.
He's taking the yeti's words seriously. Where he might normally just place the pack in the oven to thaw, he doesn't have that luxury. Instead he places it on the table and lays his palm over the surface. He channels warmth carefully. Slowly. He wants to thaw the meat, not cook it. It takes a few minutes. When he's sure the pack is warmed just enough to pull the pieces apart is when he tears the plastic off and pushes the pack towards the younger halfa.
Danny twitches faintly and he sluggishly picks his head up to look. His eyes flash green briefly, then turn to a bright, glowing icey blue, pupils thinning to a strange feline glare. The instinct itself is infantile, but he seems mildly interested in the flesh. Vlad lingers by the counter with baited breath. The boy's nose twitches as he sniffs, leaning in towards the package. Tilting his head slightly in curiosity. The scent seems to spur him on a bit and he twists in his seat, bracing both hands against the flat surface of the island.
Vlad waits, fighting the urge to tap a foot or hand impatiently. It takes the boy five grueling minutes to grab a piece.
Any other day, in any other circumstance, Danny would be clear headed and questioning why he's being served raw beef straight from the package. But his state must have rendered his humanity silent, Vlad figures, because the boy just begins eating. Chewing at the thawed pieces and gnawing on the still partially frozen bits from the center of the bundle. And the older halfa doesn't stop him. He considers the chunks as the youngling slowly works his way through them. By the time Danny swallows them, they'll be in shreds and frozen. If he eats a piece, with his core temp fluctuating, it's possible it'll be fully cooked by the time it reaches his stomach. Really, its a spur-of-the-moment idea that serves absolutely no purpose as an experiment. Just a curiosity. Especially since he still has more to learn.
Oh, well. May as well start small. He reaches out for a piece...only to be growled at and have his hand slashed at.
It startles him. Danny missed, but the animal response from the boy sees him taken aback and Vlad stares in surprise. He doesn't try reaching for a piece again. Instead, he decides he'll eat later and leans back against the counter again. He lets his eyes drift shut for a few minutes. He's really tired...
''Why am I eating raw beef?''
Vlad blinks himself awake. ''Hm? Oh. It was Frostbite's idea. And you've been rejecting food for almost two weeks.''
Danny stares at the piece of cold meat in his hand. ''Okay... But why raw beef?''
Vlad shrugs. ''Faster than cooking? Your color is improving.''
Danny hesitantly sniffs at the cut with very human insecurity.
''I've already told you, human ailments are a thing of the past.''
Danny stares at the flesh a little longer before holding it out to Vlad. ''That's nice. I'm good,'' in a tone that sounds as though he's weirded out by the fact that he was consuming raw cow. To be fair, though, most people would be.
Vlad quirks a brow at the extended hand. ''You're not going to rip my throat out?''
Danny pales. ''Why would I-''
''-Never mind,'' he takes the piece and pops it into his mouth. It's mostly thawed, but still quite cold. He channels his heat as he chews, finding each bite needs more effort as he works his jaw before swallowing. He was right, of course. It was a completely useless experiment. But still an interesting one.
''We need to talk,'' the older halfa says gently, and takes a seat at the island.
Danny pushes the nearly empty package as far forward and away from himself as he possibly can. ''Did I do something?''
''No. No, of course not. Um...''
Danny leans forward a little, curious.
Vlad clears his throat. ''Your eighteenth birthday. You're going to spend it here, for your own safety.''
''Okay, but...why?''
''Because your vessel spell has not manifested yet. With luck, it will appear then. It's an agonizing process that will take about a week and I'd rather you not endure it under your parents' roof. If it doesn't appear, then you'll spend your twenty-first birthday here, too.''
Danny nods. ''Alright,'' he folds his arms and leans back in his seat, ''Are you actually gonna tell me what it does? Because Frostbite woudn't.''
Vlad sighs and pinches between his eyes. ''You're a little young for that information.''
''Yeah, he said that, too.'' He's getting annoyed.
''And for good reason.''
''Look, I'm already half dead. It's all downhill from here, right? So why can't you just tell me?''
''Daniel..." Vlad's tone drops in warning.
''If I'm going to go through it, I should at least know why. What does it do?''
''I'll tell you when you're a little older.''
''But-''
Vlad's face flushes red, ''-Daniel, you're not even fifteen yet! I will tell you before you're suffering through the joyous week long fever and sniveling and crying and attempts to rip your own guts out, but not now,'' he pushes the package of meat back towards the boy, ''Now shut up and eat so I can tell that harpy you call a sister that I haven't sent you to bed hungry after not eating for ten days.''
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Kindred Spirits