John Constantine had seen a lot of things in his life, things that would probably drive any other mortal insane. He liked to think he was well versed in anything that the supernatural and otherworldly could through at him.
He was not expecting Daniel James Fenton.
Constantine wasn’t looking forward to visiting his buffoon of a half brother in the first place, let alone in a town absolutely soaked in Death, but he’d relented and gone. He was regretting his decision more and more by the day.
Danny had sent off his internal otherworldly detector like a wildfire sets of a smoke alarm, loud and insistent. The problem was that Constantine had no idea why.
Sure Amity Park was absolutely liminal, and every single citizen set off his instincts just a bit, but Danny made them scream. Scream louder than demons had.
So what exactly was Danny Fenton?
John Constantine was going to find out, even if it killed him.
______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ _____
Danny’s ghost sense wasn’t the only attribute he gained regarding his instincts after the accident. Every ghost had sent off a little flare in his core along with his sense, but this was the first time his core had flared with no ghost sense to follow.
And of course it had done so with his half-uncle, John Constantine.
The guy reeked of death, but also of resurrection. And not just death and then being brought back, no; the man had gone through death multiple times.
He also stunk of sulfur and brimstone, Danny had known from lessons with Clockwork and Dora that scent in particular meant demonic presence.
But Constantine didn’t send off the right twist in his gut that would come with a demon, even a smaller one.
He didn’t feel like a sorcerer, either. No magical tension in the air due to his presence and there was no spark in Danny’s core that alerted of magic. But Constantine definitely had a magical touch to him.
John Constantine was a mystery, and Danny was going to solve that mystery if it was the (second) last thing he did.
Summary: Danny's 19, a prince, a halfa, and tired of being these things. So he jumps on the idea of a vacation as soon he's given the hint of a chance. The only caveat is that he's going to go undercover as a vampire in a big city - Gotham - far from his home dimension. He finds it's easier than he thought it would be. He's already mostly there.
Relationships: Dead on Main (Jason Todd/Danny Fenton), John Constantine & Danny Fenton
Um? Inspired by several prompts and other fanfics. Lost Between Our Needs and Wants AU definitely, with a background Danny's summoned by Ra's as Damian as a sacrifice. Nothing bad happens (to Damian) don't worry. Also, the one in which Danny decided to fight ghosts as a human too.
And John is almost definitely ooc, he's a character I enjoy a lot even though I don't have a firm grasp of his canon.
Danny's afterlife has been way too interesting for way too long. It's gotten to the point that when things suddenly go quiet for months, he hardly hesitates to give his "human" life some over-due attention.
For obvious reasons he's not going to try his "vacation" in his own dimension. Anyone he once might have stayed for know how to get a hold of him, whenever and wherever.
The Amity Park portal is still open. But between the stricter laws on ghosts wanting to use permanent portals he managed to get passed, and the increasingly feral ways the townsfolk have begun defending each other with, Danny feels confident to finally...let go. In his heart, he had always thought of it as still his, despite not being there to maintain it in truth. But now it's not his Haunt anymore, fully and completely.
They don't need him anymore.
And Danny doesn't want to be needed like that again, to be honest. He sacrificed so much to play hero because he got it into his head that he had to do everything alone in the end. As if he was the only one who could kick ghost butt on the daily in town.
Thankfully, a nineteen year old Danny is smarter than a fourteen year old Danny. He's learned the art of delegation. Any tasks that he doesn't need to be present for, he has a whole team of ghostly assistants to handle things for him. The major multidimensional crises have for the most part been solved - his protection Obsession at the very least fed. And quite a few skeleton thralls he freed near the beginning of his reign were suddenly looking for direction. Among them, a decent amount found the talent and fulfillment in positions of bureaucratic power that Danny never will, filling up spots he's unwilling to give out like the candy the various ghosts of nobility treat the roles as. Or ghost nobility. Like the Ancients. Quite a few of the Ancients are assholes.
(At least all the murderous Ancients aren't problems anymore)
With all their help, he's able to occasionally pop in to do paperwork, meet with the High Court for various lawmaking and judicial decisions, and listening to official petitions to the Crown from his people. It's all good. No mountains of unseen paperwork, no audience with the Observants every waking moment, no one across the Realms screaming desperately for help. Even some of the cults have finally caught on that he's not Pariah!
So Danny starts the process of finding a new Haunt for his new, normal, alive alter ego. Staying as long as he has in the Realms couldn't have been sustainable long-term if he didn't want to become a full ghost. As complicated as his relationship with his humanity is these days, he still doesn't want to die again. And Frostbite definitely has been pushing him to finding new territory, in the Infinite Realms or otherwise. Because even for full ghosts going Hauntless for long periods is straining. To say the least.
Although, being just a human again...didn't sit right. Even after all this time. His human form is still one Danny Fenton, in his eyes.
He can never be Danny Fenton again. He accepted that his duties as Crown Prince would keep him away from the identity of the ghost hunter's ghost hunting son, who went to Casper high and had terrible grades in everything but science; the kid who was shoved into lockers and who was addicted to Nasty Burger and played DOOMED with his friends and who wanted to be an astronaut. He accepted that he had to leave that all behind, and be full ghost in all but form. His parents wouldn't want him if they knew everything he lied about, anyways. He didn't actually deserve the name Fenton.
His new Haunt would preferably be in a place where he could reasonably pass himself off as another species, then, and still be safe. Safer than being a ghost at least. Most universes had well-deserved folklore against the Realms. His people are not inherently malevolent...But he knows that they don't play nice and careful with the living.
He would need an ectoplasm rich environment, too. A big city with lots of crime would go a long way for providing the ambient death and fear vibes that would attract Blobs like a bee to nectar. It would also make it feel like the Infinite Realms - hopefully. He's gotten accustomed to that kind of environment. He thinks he may never sleep again in a place quiet and safe.
He'd like a place with a rich history too. Just for fun!
Danny mulls it over carefully, narrowing down universes he could reasonably start his search in. The only universe he can think of with extensive protections for the non-human written into law is one far-flung flavor of an Earth he's semi-familiar with. He's been there twice, both at 16, just starting out and stressed to hell and back with the sheer load of unattended problems Pariah left to rot.
Both times he'd been more than he'd have liked. One Ra's Al Ghul wasn't technically his problem. He was no one's problem now, and that was current Danny's whole issue with it.
John Constantine is an unlamented saint for putting up with a feral teenaged Danny's slap dash attempt at helping the both of them - John with his soul related doom, and Danny with his paperwork related misery.
But. Considering how he handled the contract with Al Ghul, Danny can't blame John for hesitating to renegotiate their terms already. Ra's Al Ghul was an idiot who gave him what he thought was the life of his grandson, in exchange for immortality.
Him. The Prince of the Dead. Immortality.
Thankfully, the wording was imprecise. What he actually traded was the kid's really cool sword - the kid kneeling, terrified eyes meeting his before darting away, offering his own sword to let Danny slit his throat and "collect his due sacrifice", Danny not being able to breathe through his own fear - for pure ectoplasm, with instruction to drink it everyday until he ran out.
This of course killed even him months later from over-exposure.
The man probably felt a mile high in the air, indestructible, right up until he crashed. Al Ghul promptly became a ghost. Which. Closest thing to true immortality the Prince of the Dead could offer him. He kept his end of the deal. It's not his fault that Al Ghul never specified that he didn't want to die to be immortal. It's also not his fault that Al Ghul had so many dead enemies and victims on the other side who were easy to find. It was ridiculously easy - they made a support group around being taken down by the LOA. And who was he to deny the dead their due vengeance?
Right. So John is understandably nervous about Danny owning all the pieces of his soul, no matter how much rapport they've built these past three years. Danny is mature enough to admit that it is his fault for that bit.
On the bright side for Danny, that means one grumpy occult detective in a sad trenchcoat is a guy who lives in his phone. Like an uncle-shaped tamagachi!
He scrolls though his contact list until he thumbs John's number. Surprisingly, instead of going to voicemail, he picks up on the first ring.
"Before you ask, yes I'm cashing in a favor, finally. No, it's nothing evil, I've just got the first actual free time I've had in five years and I'd like to get suggestions on a city to move to."
-------------------
John ended up giving a very detailed list in response. Suspiciously detailed, and hardly prompted. How long had John been thinking on this? And why?
Danny chalked it up to the man's reasonable paranoia when it came to him. John's aware he can pretend to be (fully) human with relative ease, afterall. And the older man knows where he'd need to be able to actually live long term. After-live. Whatever. Point is, John probably made it his business to know where any sneaky invasions would start if Danny ever became a little less morally ambiguous and a little more bloodthirsty.
Entirely fair! Pariah wasn't always a tyrant!
On the very top was Gotham, a city in this world's Jersey, and the crime capitol of the States. Plenty of ambient ectoplasm, and planty of charged emotions wafting from every street corner. He doesn't voice this, but Danny figures that there must be a whole community of ghosts already living there because of that double whammy.
Something about the city's name tickles his memory, but can't quite pin it down. If it was important he'd have remembered. Right?
John is thrown when he asks about his options of other non-humans Danny could reasonably get away with impersonating.
"And why," the occultist half-accuses, "would you of all spooks, want to live in Gotham, as a 'vacation', just to not even pretend to be normal?"
"First of all, ow. John you know just because someone is different doesn't mean they're not normal. I thought you were the cool uncle." He responds half-heartedly. Danny bites his bottom lip, rolling it between his sharp teeth as he tries to think of a part two to that answer that wouldn't get uncomfortably personal.
John doesn't rise to his bait. Danny hears him unscrew something metallic, then the sound of fluid swishing quietly from the other end. Ah.
The silence wears on. Danny should hang up. But winging things have always gotten him into bigger trouble. And John is the guy to call for this. Fuck. And he's bad at lying bold-faced.
Fine.
"I'm half human," Danny responds as if that would explain everything. It doesn't, so he manages to continue in a small voice that he doesn't even remember the last time he'd used. "Sometimes I still pretend to be one when I can't see any other way. But I had my chance at playing the part of both. And I royally screwed it up, literally! I became freaking royalty and I just couldn't anymore. As far as anyone but my doctor is concerned, I'm full ghost. I had a chance - I don't deserve another one. Screw ups don't get nice things."
John takes another swig from his flask, mutters something under his breath that sounds vaguely like 'of course he's a fecking halfa'. His voice is rough around the edges from whatever cheap booze he just drank a concerning amount of.
"Listen. Sounds like you've got trauma dripping from your ears, kid. But what's the point here, huh? Sounds like you want to be human without all the fuss of it." John drawls out.
Danny takes a deep breath in through his nose. He tries to fight down the feeling of being peeled open for the world to see - being afraid isn't helpful right now. He needs to be silly, nonchalant, like he's always been with John in tense situations. Why do they only talk when things are tense, anyways?
"Essentially. It's more like. I want to have all the human experiences I missed out on, but without having to hide being inhuman. That kinda thing."
"And you can't just be a ghost?"
"I really don't think anyone likes being ghosted."
"Don't you start on that. You know what I mean, Princeling."
"Fine. No, I can't be a ghost. That's boring and no one likes being haunted."
John gives a long sigh. After a beat, he acquiesces. "Alright. You could pull off vamps damn well. Got the hair for 'em. The teeth and claws are only slightly off. There's several clans with different looks the same way humans have ethnicities. Although, I don't think that's the same, now that I'm thinking about it. But subspecies doesn't fit either."
Danny hums, tilting his head in thought. "Like the difference between a banshee and a specter?"
"Yeah, like that. All vamps, just different enough, and no kind older than another to say they're the 'main' species." John clarifies. Another pause. "Unless you count Halfas. Which. Some people do but shouldn't. Bloody idiots."
Danny startles, nearly dropping his phone. "Excuse me?"
John snorts. "What? You didn't know?"
"Musta missed that part in the complimentary instruction manual they gave me for having my molecules redecorated." He snarks. "What do you mean I'm already a vampire?"
"I said people who don't know what they're talking about count Halfas as the original vampires. You lot have been around since the bloody dawn of time, it seems." John sounds exasperated.
"That's not what I - never have I ever wanted to take a chomp on anyone's pulse point, what the fuck?"
John gets that smug tone in his voice that Danny has a love-hate relationship with. "And exactly how many undead folks do you hang out with when you're feeling peckish?"
"...you can't be serious." Danny says instead of denying him. What can he even say to that? He's never met a Revenant or Ghoul.
"As the grave, I'm afraid."
When Danny doesn't outwardly respond for too many beats, John takes another chug. "Phantom?"
"John." He begins, pinching the bridge of his nose as more and more dots connect too cleanly for him. "You might be wrong."
"...What awful lore about your eldritch homeland is going to send me into my weekly crisis this time?" The detective groans out.
"Alright. So you know how part of my whole thing as the Prince makes it my job to stay aware of ectoplasmic diseases?"
John hums in acknowledgement, so Danny sucks in a deep breath. "Then you should know two things. One, that I've been to a few dimensions with vampires in them. And like you said, they're all different from each other. I didn't really pay much attention beyond helping the people survive these world-ending scenarios though.
Two, is that in each and every one of those realities, the vampirism was caused by a virus made by an Ancient - don't worry, they're gone. The disease itself is called False Halfa Syndrome. It was their attempt to weaponize Halfas back in Pariah's time."
"Oh shite." John says elegantly. "Bag o' shite!"
"Good luck on that crisis. Me too." Danny is hardly holding in hysterical laughter. "I can't believe Sam and Tucker were right about this. Holy shit."
"How in the world didn't you piece this together until now?!"
"I don't know! I just thought it was coincidence!"
"Bloody fucking hell, Phantom. Nevermind. You can play a vampire totally accurately because you are one. A ghost one." John growls. "Cause that just had to be a thing."
Danny carefully doesn't think about how Vlad might have legitimate claim to that vampiric aesthetic he's got going on. Instead, he's planning on stealing an aesthetic change for his own ruse.
"Nice. Should I know anything else while we're here?" He asks.
John gave a wry laugh, crackling over the phone's shitty old speakers. "About Gotham or your new undead existence?"
"Both." He says instantly. "Both is good."
"Gotham has vigilantes. The birds and bats are efficient, and they spook easy at unknowns. Batman's technically my coworker if we're gonna call the Justice League a job - we don't get paid for this. He and his family deal with the craziest lineup of human rogues I've ever had the displeasure. It's made him a healthy amount of paranoid. If you're doing anything nefarious, he'll find you. And then he'll call me."
Danny isn't exactly afraid of John. But Pariah wasn't afraid of Danny, either, so the halfa takes it seriously. Internally.
"Yeah yeah old man. You've got your eye on me and all that. Uh huh." He genuinely appreciates the warning, too, but messing with John is his bread and butter.
"Watch it, brat," John says with no real venom, unlike a moment ago. "Or I'll bring out the stakes."
"I take mine medium rare, thank you."
"Piss off."
"...About the vampirism?"
"Normal ghost bullshite applies. It's about the ecto, I think. You go absolutely nutters for the stuff in undead folk. Something about how ectoplasm interacts with the reanimated. Liminals are nutritious too, but I've been told it's the difference between cafeteria food and gourmet. One smells absolutely heavenly, the other is barely appetizing."
Oh Ancients is that why all his exes are Liminal? No, hold on, was part of the reason Vlad was so weird about him just ghost-vamp on ghost-vamp mutual hanger?
"What, I'm not the only Halfa in your life? John. I thought we had something special."
"Please don't make this weird. Do not flirt with me." John instantly scolds. "I know you're just being your little weird brand of playful, but I knew you when you were a kid shaped menace. C'mon."
Danny blinks. He didn't think he was flirting, but apparently he was. "Alright. Sorry, John."
There's a sudden crash on the other side of the phone. Followed by John's muffled cursing.
"Listen, I have to go. If you're serious about this I'll get you some good fakes. Text me with what you'd like your name to be." And then John hangs up. Danny smiles into the lingering silence.
God's Favorite Whore: That's the most main character name I've ever bloody seen.
God's Favorite Whore: You're from a dead family in Illinois, farm boy, meta. Had an accident at 14, with a near death experience for believability. You've also been missing since shortly after it. Anyone looking into you will think that's when you got "turned."
PhantomMenace: thats why your the cool uncle <3
God's Favorite Whore: This should count as another favor, don't you think?
PhantomMenace: Yup. I'll be nice
PhantomMenace: 💚 ~2/20 Favors until Soul Return~ 💚
Summary: Danny arrives, sees something Concerning, meets Batman, tries not to fight Batman. Nope not going to rogue it up here, no thank you.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Danny Fenton, John Constantine & Danny Fenton
for context, phenes are letters in Ghostwriting, and you can do necromantic magic with them if you know how
As soon as he's within a five mile vicinity of Gotham, Danny has to stop and deeply consider his afterlife decisions.
PhantomMenace: what the FUCK is wrong with this place.
PhantomMenace: John.
PhantomMenace: I know you know how many generational curses are set in the very foundations. And not the abusive cycle kind.
PhantomMenace: who had the goddamn PATIENCE for this
PhantomMenace: who carves THIS MANY phenes into THAT MUCH wet concrete??
PhantomMenace: we'd have to blow up the whole city to unfuck this!!
PhantomMenace: when I find whoever did this I don't know if I'm going to kill them a second time, or make out with them immediately
PhantomMenace: they've clearly ascended to levels of spite I can only dream of, I've to at least respect that
God's Favorite Whore: For my sake I hope you kill them. Gross.
PhantomMenace: 💚
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Night time in Gotham is beautiful, even without the view of the stars.
Danny finds himself exploring from the rooftops. Old Gothic architecture spins for miles; spidering out from the tallest buildings are gargoyles reminiscent of what he knows of cathedrals. Below him, the city comes alive in a flurry of motion.
The cars slow to a trickle, but foot traffic picks up. Well-dressed people in their 20s hit the bars, swaying and laughing with their friends. Danny takes note with a smile that they're all armed, and at least one person in each group seems to be as sober as a stone. Keeping safe and having fun.
The night workers hit the streets, and little skinny kids of all ages weave in between bodies like leaves in flowing water. Handing off things Danny can't see to the people on the street corners, laughing and joking and pushing each other, never straying too far to allies or the side of the road. Not ever being without at least one other. It's sad to see they have to protect each other like that, but that's life, and it seems they're living it.
Blob ghosts make unseen mischief. There's a second layer of traffic - blobs spinning a foot in the air above everyone else, catching stray emotions and fat and happy off the ambient ectoplasm. Danny's never seen any blob in a color other than radioactive green, but the ones in Gotham are all different shades of red. He wonders if the curses here might be a factor. And if his condenser will be stained red from now on.
Danny spots something strange the longer he looks. He slips off the edge of the building, walking down its side to the alley below. He slips into partial invisibility to not startle anyone not already looking for him, and peaks out the mouth of the alley.
Shades walk down the streets side by side with the human Gothamites. They give the human-looking ghosts a wide berth, but otherwise no one acknowledges them. He tracks the figures with his eyes, hating the blank look in each of them. He's sure that they're not even properly looking at anything. They go through anyone and everything in their paths intangibly. He sees several people shiver and look around confused, before walking off, visibly more tired looking than before.
Danny unclips his condenser from his belt to check if his dinner's ready. He startles a bit at the unfamiliar red, but shrugs. He's hungry. The blobs are having a blast despite how evil the air is. He should be fiiiine.
Taking a deep gulp, Danny returns his attention to the Shades, wary of what this new behavior means. He quickly does a rough count of humans, and then the strange Neverborns in the street. And oh boy. He does not like how the math is mathing.
In a normal, healthy population, there should only be one Shade per fifty humans. In Gotham? It's nearly one to one. He's never seen or heard of this. Danny wonders exactly how many people get mysteriously sick, or die of "natural causes" here.
Once he gets settled in, he'll have to go looking for the cause. Even in a crime ridden big city this isn't normal.
Danny takes another sip as he tears himself away from the mouth of the alley. He becomes fully visible as he steps into the shadows. He means to float up to the rooftops again, but a dull thump behind him has him zipping around on instinct.
Between him and the exit, a broad shouldered man rises from his feet. At first Danny thinks he's covered in shadows, but as his eyes quickly readjust to the level of light, he realizes that the man is just wearing a long dark cloak with a cowl. It covers his head and half his face, with two white beams of light staring impassively at him. It hurts to look at to be honest.
Danny tenses like a springtrap. John never gave him descriptions of any of the rogues, OR the bats. He doesn't know what he's dealing with right now, and he'd really rather not get into a brawl tonight. Humans don't do that to be friendly.
"Where did you get the blood?" The man demands. His voice is obviously modified to be deeper, but Danny thinks it might be naturally growly and inflectionless, as the man's body language or expression doesn't change.
He doesn't really think before he responds. The question throws him, okay? "Uh? Synthesizer?" Danny shakes his condenser some. It's only half full, so it only sloshes thickly against the sides instead of spilling. Suddenly feeling self-conscious about it, Danny caps it and reclips it to his belt.
He extends a hand to shake. "Name's Dante Nightingale. But people call me Danny."
The incredibly rude man doesn't shake his hand, OR introduce himself. All he gets in response is a minute head tilt that in other circumstances he would find adorable.
He rolls his eyes. "This is the part where you introduce yourself. Like a human."
The man grunts in acknowledgement. After an awkward moment, the man extends a (clawed!) hand from under his cape and grips Danny's own. "Batman."
Danny relaxes a smidge. "Nice. Cool. Heard about you and your Fraid. I'm told you're good people. thank you for not being a sentient shadow here to rob me." He lets go of the man's warm glove.
"Fraid?" Batman parrots, vaguely suspicious. Or curious. He's not sure.
"Um. It's like. Well, found family is the default in my culture, so we got a whole word for it. I didn't want to assume blood relations." Danny explains. "You've got a strong grip. Are the claws part of your suit or?" Danny flashes his own claws playfully.
"The suit." Batman says simply. "Why were you watching people from the alley?"
Danny leans back on his heels, clasping his hands behind his back, swaying back and forth. "Just flew in to town, I don't really know my way around yet. So I've been exploring on the rooftops so no one has the bright idea to mug the newbie." Danny stops swaying and folds his arms over his chest with a frown. "Then I noticed something wasn't right. Well. Other than how cursed you guys are. Actually? Might be related."
Batman's headlights narrow in a very convincing glare, so Danny tries to elaborate. "Shades really shouldn't be literally crawling through the streets. The non-physical, non-sentient psychic vampires? Yeah. I don't know if you can see this, but they're walking around in groups besides and through people. Which. They don't group up, and they don't typically go for crowded places. Shades thrive in privacy. They mimic whatever person accidentally made them, and lure loved ones alone. This whole thing is weird and probably not good."
Batman grunts again, head tilting slightly the opposite way. The little bit of silence lets Danny briefly contemplate if Batman is neurodivergent and not actually trying to be a brooding asshole. The older man's tone and facial expressions are flat, he doesn't seem to pick up on social cues, and he favors nonverbal communication. Danny makes a mental note to figure that out later if they ever meet again.
"What can we do?" Batman asks. Danny shrugs. Technically, it's not his problem unless they can't handle it themselves. "Justice League Dark this, I guess. Find me if they can't help. I'll give it the old college try if you ask."
Batman taps the side of his mask where the ear would be underneath. A quiet sound of static fills the alleyway. Batman full-body flinches at the sudden loud sound in his ear. The older man whirls to glare at Danny. The Halfa nearly chokes under the creepy, suddenly hostile gaze of the pinpricks of light.
"What did you do to my coms?" The man full on growls. The cloak is brushed aside as Batman takes out two throwing blades from his (bright yellow?) belt.
Danny's heartbeat races at the prospect of a brawl. Green light fills his vision and starts to cast a strange glow across the alley. His biology reacts, but his mind is screaming at him to put on the brakes. Do not fight the vigilantes! He's not being friendly! Do not the rogue!!
So he puts his hands up in surrender. "Woah woah woah! I can't control this, electronics just fritz around me! Hold on, just, I'll leave and they should be fine? I need to get back to my hotel anyways. Nice meeting you!"
Without waiting for a response Danny turns ghost tail. Which is to say, he turns invisible and flies through the building in the vague direction of said hotel. He flings himself into the soft, soft pillows, and tries to calm his ass down. No. No fighting. He does not need to be put in Arkham on his first day, or whatever.
Elsewhere, the coms crackle back to life.
"-atman?!"
"Oracle." He confirms.
"What happened? The boys are on their way, what's the sitch?"
