Prompt by little-egg-buddy. Phor the Phic Phight.

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The three teens, Danny, Sam, and Tucker, leaned around the edge of the train car and watched as Freakshow was carried away by the police, coins falling out of the folds of his clothing as he went. As one, they pulled back, hiding from the other approaching adult.

Tucker heaved a huge sigh. "Well," he said. "I'm glad that's over." He put his hands behind his glasses to rub his eyes. "We should get out of here before someone catches us."

"Yeah," agreed Sam, who was leaning heavily against the side of the train car. Her legs were shaking, just slightly. "You're right. Danny, can you..." she trailed off as she stared into his eyes, eyebrows knit together. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," said Danny, trying to smile. He abandoned the attempt. Red flickered in his brain. He felt sick, like he'd just jumped off a tilt-a-whirl from hell. He didn't know what he had done for Freakshow, but flashes of red-hued violence were spiking through his brain and the idea that he might have harmed someone made him want to curl up somewhere dark and cry. His fingers stung with the force with which he gripped the staff. "I'll fly you guys out of here," he said, hoping they wouldn't refuse, hoping they would still trust him after everything.

"Yeah, let's go," said Tucker, adjusting his glasses. Sam nodded.

Danny stepped forward and tried to wrap his arms around the two of them. The staff made every grip he tried uncomfortable and insecure. He floated back, stricken. "I'm so sorry," he said, hunching his shoulders. Red and blue were flashing around the edge of the train car.

Sam reached out to him, her fingers hovering just over the surface of the staff. "Maybe I could hold this, instead?" she asked.

"I..." Danny blinked at the staff. His head felt fuzzy. "How long have I been holding this?" he asked. He'd been holding it the whole time, hadn't he? Why? He shook his head. "I don't know." He didn't want to let anyone else have it. He didn't want to be used again. He didn't want to be hurt.

(And there might have been something else, something red and terrible lurking around the edges of his thoughts.)

But, it was Sam asking.

He extended it to her (when had he pulled it back?) his arm trembling. "I don't think I can let go, on my own," he said.

That made Sam's face do interesting things. She began to reach slowly for the staff.

"Guys, could we maybe hurry up? The police are coming this way!" hissed Tucker.

Sam jumped and grabbed the staff. Almost at once, the tension building in Danny was swept away by a flood of red. But it was a nicer, deeper red, not like (before) with (Freakshow), because Sam was a friend (but ghosts didn't have friends), and he trusted her.

(Not that it mattered.)

((And a very small part of Danny knew that he was much more thoroughly under Sam's control than he ever had been with Freakshow.))

He blinked.

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Sam's room. He had never seen Sam's room so red. He reached out to touch the curtain he was sitting by. He could hear Sam and Tucker talking, as if under water.

"How did we get here?" he asked.

"You don't remember?" asked Sam. She sounded worried.

Danny shook his head. He felt like he was packed into soft red cotton. What was there to be worried about? He started to drift back into the red ocean, then blinked hard. No, if Sam was worried, he should try to understand.

"You flew us here," said Sam. "You- crap, I've screwed you up, and you'd been snapping out of it." She said something that would have gotten her detention if a teacher heard it. Her face was scrunched up like she was about to cry, which was wrong, because Sam never cried.

"Maybe we should try and destroy the staff?" asked Tucker. "Maybe that will help?"

"Or do something worse," said Sam. "We need to disconnect him, or something."

"Well, what got him out before was when Freakshow tried to make him do something... really bad."

"Yeah," said Sam. "But what if we ask him to do something like that, and he does? We can't do that to him. Or anyone else."

"Um," said Tucker. He walked into Danny's field of view and sat cross-legged on the carpet. "I think a lot of it also happened when you and I were in danger."

Sam nodded. "Let's shelve that for now," said Sam. "I... don't feel like jumping off of any more moving trains right away."

"Yeah, same. But most of the time... I think it was just waiting it out. Out of sight, out of mind." Tucker licked his lower lip. "Yeah."

"Okay, so we stash it under the bed or something. But in the meantime..." Sam trailed off. "Danny, are you following any of this?"

"Yes, Sam," said Danny, obediently. He had to answer questions. They were like orders.

"What do you think we should do?"

"Whatever you think we should do," said Danny, agreeably.

"Okay," said Sam. "Let's try this again. If you weren't, you know, under the control of the staff, what would you think we should do?"

That was a hard question. Danny's lips smoothed into a small frown. What expression had he been wearing before?

He couldn't just say that he didn't know. His last master had made it pretty clear that things like that would be considered disobedience. But Sam, his new master, she wouldn't punish him like that. Would she?

"Maybe if we gave it back to him, he'd be more, you know, lucid?" suggested Tucker. "He kind of seemed more like himself before, like you said."

"Yeah," said Sam, she shifted, and Danny's attention was arrested by the staff yet again. Sam told him to do something, and his body moved automatically, without the words being processed by his conscious mind.

The staff was in his hands again, and the world was sharp, ruby-tinted glass. He flinched away from the others in the room, holding the staff away from them. They would use it, and they would use him, and he couldn't.

"Danny?"

They knew his name. They knew his name. Why? Why? Only friends could use his name like that, and he was a ghost. Ghosts didn't have friends. This was wrong, everything was wrong, and it was so hard to think.

One thought prevailed: The staff was bad. It was dangerous. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

He lifted the staff above his head, and brought its head down against Sam's carpeted floor.

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Danny curled around the shaft of the staff, staying well away from the broken glassy shards on the top. The severity of what had happened was only now hitting him. He felt dirty and stupid and wrong. How could he let himself be used like that? Be used to hurt people? He moaned.

"Danny? Danny, are you okay?" asked Sam. He blinked up at her. Part of him was wary. From what he remembered, she had tried to help him, but she had still used the staff and that felt-

-bad.

But she was his friend. She and Tucker were his friends. He could trust them.

"I think so," said Danny. "I-" He shuddered. "I think I'm myself, now. The red is gone."

Sam walked cautiously around the red shards, and put her hand on Danny's back. He tensed, just slightly, and she pulled her hand away.

"What do you think we should do about that?" asked Sam, pointing at the remains of the staff. "Burn it?"

"It's metal," said Tucker, "and rock or whatever. I don't think it would burn very well."

"Smash it into dust and bury it," said Danny. "As far away as we can."

He knew his tone was a bit more vicious than usual, and he didn't miss the way Sam and Tucker glanced at each other.

"Sure, Danny," said Sam. "Whatever you want."