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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
- 47
- 48
- 49
Getting out of the house isn't new. But getting out of Minnesota, out from under the weight of the quiet anxiety of being discovered is nice.
And there's also a certain amount of anticipation mixed in. Eager to see Vlad again, eager to go home because that's what the manor is to him, and eager to just throw himself onto a pile of pillows in the library and not move. Assuming, of course, that nothing happens this year. The desire to nest relies rather heavily on not doubling over in pain the moment the clock strikes midnight.
He wants to stay awake for the whole ride. He wants to see the mansion slowly peer over the hill as the car draws closer. He wants to push the doors open himself, and go running into the foyer. He wants to run straight into a fire core. But the quiet lull of the tires going down the highway and the odd little bump here and there from running over a pebble or stray pieces of old rubber slowly drag Danny down.
An unusual lullaby to fall asleep to, but pacing an entire block seems to have drained him more than he expected. Or maybe it's just the night creeping up on him.
Either way, after just an hour and a half, he can't fight the sudden exhaustion anymore. He lays down across the back seat and drifts off.
He dreams of falling into a familiar scape, the mimic of his room. It doesn't bother him in the slightest. He simply curls up there, too. A little rush of warmth seeps in. But he's tired enough that he doesn't pay it any mind.
-
The only reason Vlad is patient is because he has to be. He has no choice. It's not like he can force the car to get to the manor any faster. That's not to say that he isn't impatient, but really, all he can do is wait. And from within, as he paces back and forth in the foyer, Plasmius does the same.
''I hate this,'' it growls lowly.
''And I don't?'' Vlad says out loud, ''I want him here just as much as you do.''
''Why didn't we just go get him ourselves?''
''...had to prepare."
''...had to prepare.''
Vlad peers out the window for the tenth time, just to see nothing outfront. He glares down at his watch and huffs. There's no more preperations to be done. If this is the year the spell manifests, Danny's room is ready. If it's not, then Danny's room is ready, and they can just try to enjoy being under the same roof again for a while.
''I wish there was a way to tell,'' the gargoyle rumbles, ''To know for sure.''
Vlad sighs again and resumes pacing. He wishes there was a way, too. Sadly, it's purely down to chance. It's only made more agonizing by the fact that Plasmius wants out. Plasmius wants to meet the boy. And, technically, even Vlad still hasn't been properly introduced, either. Danny's form has matured. Changed. Into something new. Something Frostbite couldn't, or, to be more accurate, wouldn't describe. The most Vlad could actually pull from the beast, inbetween sifting through enchantments and accidentally starting small fires, was a faintly uttered, ''He is a child of Winter."
Which irritated Vlad to no end and only served to piss Plasmius off, because how is that helpful as a description? Neither of them, neither half knows what to expect. Factoring in that strangely and highly articulated tail, Vlad can only build off of what he already knows, and the image isn't really all that different than what he saw almost four years ago.
Dredging up whatever thoughts and ideas he's concocted on what to expect seems to give him the drive he needs to keep stalking his own foyer. Before he realizes it, the sun has fallen and the Wisconsin skyline is nothing but stars and snowdrifts.
...his ghost sense triggers, slicing through his throat in a red wisp of smoke. Alerted, elated, delighted, Vlad pulls the main doors open, and within minutes, sees a black Mercedes pull into the courtyard. He half expected Danny to come barreling out of the car immediately. So he waited. When the rear right passenger door doesn't open, though, and he doesn't see any movement behind the tinted glass, something rolls upside down and backwards in his gut. Nervous, he approaches the car as calmly as he can and pulls the door open, hoping to find the younger halfa has just decided to take a nap. Instead, he's hit with an unbearable wall of heat.
Danny lays across the back seats, yes. But not in rest. His skin has reddened to an ugly hue. His hair, naturally unkempt, is matted and plastered to the side of his face, drenched in sweat. Condensation in the extreme clogs the view of the opposite door's window. Breathing labored, straining for cooler air, and legs pulled fetal and close to his chest. And the journal is laying in the footwell, open, but face down and folding the pages irreparably.
Vlad goes for him instantly. As he gathers the overheated body into his arms, Danny cries out. Loudly. In what he can only surmise as agony, fangs bared with every pained breath. Plasmius roars and claws at the walls of their scape in an attempt to come to aid. And Vlad has to let him, even as the temper tantrum spawns a headache. Danny fusses in his arms. Danny fusses badly enough that Vlad has to stop and lay him down in the snow. He takes the opportunity to go back to the car for the journal and duffle bag and sends the driver on his way, with a hefty tip.
It's when the car has just left his property and he's holding Danny's belongings, looking down at Danny crying in the snow that he realizes he only has two hands.
''I need help,'' he whispers into the night.
His head throbs as a new hole is torn in his mind with angry claws.
''If I let you out...will you do what I tell you?'' the words are out before he knows what he's saying, and by the time he does, it's dead quiet in his head. There's no more scratching at the walls, no more pounding on the shelves or books being thrown around. No more roaring or whining, no more sounds of protest.
''...what?''
''If I let you out, will you do what I tell you? Without argument? Without pitching a fit or being a problem?''
''...wh-...now?''
''My hands are full, it's ten degrees outside, the snow under him is melting, and I can't carry him if he's squirming! Yes, now!'' Vlad barks.
''I... I... We... But... He's... ...now?''
Vlad sets the duffle on the ground, puts the journal on top. A few flakes of snow won't hurt it. He then stands up straight. As straight as he can. Never having done this before, nor uttered the spell he wrote, and not even sure it would work, he reaches a cautious hand up to his chest and phases it through. He dips his fingers into his core to feel for linked metal, and the sensation is not a good one. A burning, stabbing pain, as energy crackles at his fingertips. He chants, low and quiet, in hushes and sighs.
"What are you-!"
Inside, Vlad can only imagine what it looks like; a portal tearing open in the mindscape for him to slip through. He can feel Plasmius startle as a hand reaches through and snatches the chain connect to its ankle.
"Relax. It's not permanent."
"Wait a minute! You can't jus-"
Vlad pulls as hard as he can. The night flashes alight in pink electricity. It strikes in thunderous chords as glowing metal is thrown out across the blanketed courtyard. Vlad falls to his hands and knees, breathing hard into the frigid air. His right ankle itches and aches with familiar compression, but he ignores it. Peering up in search of the other end, his eyes follow luminescent links the size of his fist...until he sees a teal stained ankle.
...the wings are ugly. To him, anyway.
He wants to marvel that the spell worked. But there's no time. Vlad forces himself to his feet just as Plasmius comes to. It manages to push itself up to its knees and opens its eyes.
The cold seeps in, but is unremarkable. Instead, Plasmius lays its vision on a shuddering mass crying into the snow. The sound is carried with a scent of blighted flowers, wilted and rotten, on a hazy mist of warmth that is indeed melting the snow beneath. Instinctively, it reaches forward, though unsure of whether to coddle or cuddle or comfort. But when its hand makes contact with the overheated body, Danny whines at the touch and Plasmius retracts. Backing away by several feet and cowering low to the ground on all fours. Acting as if it's just broken something.
Vlad sighs, "Just pick him up," and throws Danny's duffle over his shoulder.
The hesitation, he decides, as the gargoyle gathers the weeping mass into its arms, is a good thing. It's evidence that his other side is capable of more than just rage and hate. It's evidence that there's some humanity in there. In both of them. A faint little glimmer of hope, if one will. Vlad had written himself off years ago, given his history with basic human interaction. To be nothing more than a monstrosity was an easy idea to adjust to and he had readily welcomed it. But the leap, though blessedly simple and absolutely divine in its logic, never fully sat right with him.
Plasmius stands, clutching a bundle of snivels and whines and cries of pain. Radiating awful heat and sweltering further against a fire core. That bundle, clad in simple fabrics and overdressed for the emanating temp despite the Wisconsin weather, looks incredibly small in the arms of a nine foot demon. And said demon is thoroughly frozen in place, unable to move out fear of hurting it further.
Vlad ushers them inside and winces as the chain goes from dragging in snow to scraping across granite. Danny wriggles and jerks the whole way, but Plasmius' sheer size and bulk proves beneficial. Despite all the fussing and feverish kicks to get away, push away, force away, he can't.
Plasmius follows with little choice; the chain is only thirty feet long.
Getting Danny to his room and into his bed is easy. Getting him to lay still and calm will be another matter. Plasmius deposits him on the bed like its handling glass.
The jostling movement made by laying Danny down earns a new wave of cries, prompting the gargoyle to back away the moment there was no need to hold him any longer. He slinks down until he's against a wall like a scolded pup. Even Vlad winces.
"Who am I kidding? I'm not going to be able manage him like this," he grits, and looks behind him towards his other half, "And you're not going to very useful, either. Fuck. Um..."
There's no pain killer he can give. There's nothing in human medicine strong enough. A sedative? Yes. But it's meaningless if the pain breaks through.
"And I can't use the sedative as an epidural, It's not... Not strong enough..."
A light bulb just about bursts in his head and he whips around long enough to pull his other half to its feet.
"Here," he hauls Plasmius over, "hold him down."
"Wha-"
"-Hold him down. Don't let him move. I need him to stay on his side."
The frightened monster does as it's told, and holds the youngling halfa in position. It watches as Vlad phases a hand directly into the shuddering back.
"What are you doing?"
"The sedative is just that. A sedative. But he won't sleep for long if he's hurting too much. And I can't use it as an epidural. But, if I disrupt the pain at the source, he'll sleep like a rock."
"I don't understand." Not locked within the confines of Vlad's mindscape, the demon isn't privy to its human half's thought process.
"It worked for his core, it worked for his teeth, it should work here. Just don't panic if he stops breathing."
"You're going to charge his spinal cord."
Vlad carefully slips his fingers into the fibrous material, "Well... Charge, shock, partially fry... It's all semantics, really. Either way, he won't feel it. And..."
Danny's body unfurls suddenly. His spine arcs into a half circle. Beneath Plasmius' hold, limbs jerk violently. The gargoyle even catches a glimpse of cyan irises rolling back. The sight burns into its mind just in time for Vlad to retract his hand.
Danny goes still and Plasmius pulls away. They both watch for a moment. Listening to be sure. There's no more crying. No more whining. No more sniveling. All that's left is a quiet, overcooking body taking in air and exhaling a little too loudly.
Vlad sighs in relief. "There. See? All better."
-
...the scent of burnt wood and old books wafts in lazily. Gently. Sound trickles through, a strange beeping noise that he thinks he's heard before. Maybe. The file is buried in a pit of old data. He tries digging it out, going through all the noises he's ever heard. Then comes warmth. Deeper than skin, deeper than bone. Creeping up on him from somewhere inside, he thinks he should know where, and venting outwards through his flesh. As a foreign dampness that seems to accumulate on his forehead the most.
It's wet and thick and just ick and he strains for the commands to the muscles in his arm. To reach up and wipe it away should not be so difficult. And it's a byte of information he's used countless times, in every gym class and in every run for his life through the halls of his school. But it seems his arm just isn't moving. Everything feels like it weighs fifty pounds...
...no, not... ...not everything...
His legs feel like they don't exist. Through the overheated haze, he's a little concerned about that. There's a distant fuzziness. From the middle of his spine down. He can't even feel his tail. It's weird. Almost uncomfortable. The same sensation fizzles through his arms and chest and to the top of his skull, it's just not as severe. But it's enough to make everything feel off.
Faintly, he gets a flash. A brief image of his other side, lying useless in a growing pool of water. Something makes a noise. A clicking whine. He echoes the sound in equal sentiment. It takes almost no energy to force his eyes open. But it feels like it takes everything.
The room is dark. A canopy of stars on a deep blue backdrop comes into blurry view. A cool softness wipes across his forehead, refreshing and sweet. He feels his skin prickle strangely at the cold. Somewhere in his head, he knows the wet should freeze. But it doesn't. Something else to worry about.
Somethi- Someone leans into his line of sight. He blinks, even if it seems like it takes forever, but the room doesn't clear at all. Stull muddled. Still cloudy.
"Vlad...?"
A warm hand brushes against his cheek, "I'm here. Don't force yourself."
Danny swallows. "Why can't I... Can't fe-feel... What's wrong...?"
"I shocked your spinal cord," Vlad answers softly, "That's why everything is numb. What do you remember?"
Danny struggles to think. "Just... Walking and... You called, there was a car, I... I got really tired... I think I... ...that's..."
Vlad nods. "Your fever set in on the way here." And he says it in a tone that makes Danny think he feels guilty.
"I'm sorry. I should have brought you here a day earlier. It would've been easier."
The youngling blinks again, "Oh... Okay..."
"I also gave you a sedative to help you sleep." There's the sound of a drawer opening.
"What time is it?" The younger halfa asks, and then winces when his voice cracks.
"It's a little after eleven in the morning. December third."
"So..."
Plastic pops in the background, "Almost two days."
"...oh. ...wow." It seems a little ridiculous to be out for so long. He knows it was far longer when he was comatose, but, still.
Danny thinks he feels his arm being moved, but he's not really sure. Everything feels so far away. Something flicks against plastic.
"What are you doing?"
"Giving you a double dose before the first one wears off. Trust me. You don't want to be awake for this."
"But...I just woke...up..." Danny manages to turn his head just in time to watch a needle sink into his arm.
"Believe me, I know," Vlad grumbles, "I had hoped you'd be out longer."
"But I... I... ... I..."
Danny's vision speckles black until there's nothing left to see and he sinks. Down...into his mindscape...dropping onto a floor with no horizon that's covered with water. He lazily turns onto his side to face the only company he knows he has in such a place.
The imp lays there next to him, soaking and weak. The blue thread linking their fingers together, glowing as bright as it did the first time they met, floats in the water.
"You, too, huh?"
-
Plasmius looms over Vlad's shoulder and watches the light in Danny's eyes dim. His eyelids fall shut in microseconds.
Vlad removes the syringe and puts the cap back on.
"Was that really necessary?"
"You did not exist when my spell manifested," Vlad dumps the syringe into a small trash can, "Trust me. It was necessary. And he was almost forming complete sentences. So I'll need to stun his spinal cord again in about six hours."
Plasmius looks away before shifting around to the foot of the bed. It settles on the floor in a pout as low as it can. Of course, given its height, hiding is not an option. Vlad observes the behavior with mild curiosity.
"I'd argue that you're a little old to be having a temper tantrum. But you've only been sentient for a little over three years."
"This is not how I wanted to meet him."
"It's not my idea of a decent introduction, either."
"...I do not want to see him like that ever again."
"Mm," Vlad lays Danny's journal out on the bed and begins to write, "Could've been worse. He was a vegetable when I met him."
Plasmius turns an ear towards its human half, "What?"
"He was comatose. Theoretically dead to the world and hooked up to a vent. I didn't get to actually talk to him for almost two months."
Plasmius grunts. "Please tell me you are not trying to give comfort."
"Hardly," Vlad closes the journal, "merely citing common ground."
"There is absolutely nothing in common between the two scenarios," it snarls.
"There's more than you think. As I said, I had to do that for his core, too."
The scoff he receives isn't worth its weight in air. The halfa says nothing to it. He stands up, holding the book close and moves for the door. He only gets about halfway down the hall before the chain goes taught around the doorway. The other end yanks backwards in response and Vlad falls. He narrowly avoids faceplanting his own floor.
He groans just the same.
"It's gonna be a long week."
- 47
- 48
- 49
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Kindred Spirits