Danny Phantom 1. Angels

**A/N: This is set sometime early in 'The Ultimate Enemy'. Yes, Valerie knows that Dan used to be Danny (P/F). **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. He still belongs to Butch Hartman. Sad face.  
**

Dan's gaze flicked to the poem posted above her head and he read it silently, mouthing the words of it, "_Good night, sleep tight / Don't let the bedbugs bite / May angels guard you through the night_."

He sneered in disdain at the childish rhyme. Why did she even have it? He nearly snorted out loud – obviously because she was still so immature. Unlike him. He already had blood staining his hands…sweet crimson blood…

Dan's eyes lit up with an unholy glow. He stared down at the girl in front of him. Her dark hair was fanned out against her white pillow. She was so innocent, so vulnerable…he could kill her right now, so easily. Slit her throat, let dark blood bleed into midnight hair…

_No, no_, he thought to himself. _Why kill her? Why not have fun for a while? The other humans merely scream in terror and run – she puts up a fight; she makes the game _fun_._

His mind made up, he turned to exit her room. He contemplated opening the window, allowing cold air to enter and make her wake earlier, but ultimately dismissed the idea. Too juvenile. Besides, it might blow away his gift.

Dan grinned and phased through the wall. _Night-night._

The next morning when Valerie woke up, the first thing she saw was a scrap of paper with the likeness of her face as she slept drawn on it. Scribbled underneath, in heart-wrenchingly familiar handwriting, were the words, "_So much for your angels_." A quick doodle of a white P inside of a black, stylized D was underneath it.

Valerie threw herself into designing the citywide ghost shield immediately after that, and from then on she always slept with an ectogun under her pillow, within easy distance should the fully evil ghost of her former friend ever visit again.

* * *

**A/N: All right, this came about because of a set of four words for poetry (Pillow, Night, Window, Angels), and then I remember an episode in Season 2 of Buffy after Angel reverts to Angelus. He comes into Buffy's room and draws her while she's sleeping. Pretty soon after that, Buffy figures out how to make him stay out of the house.**


	2. Snap

**A/N: ...?**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman still does.  
**

Maddie had noticed her son was stressed. It wasn't exactly difficult to tell – he had dark smudges beneath his eyes all the time, he shuffled around like a zombie, he was always distracted, he worked on homework _far_ too much (and that _awful _C.A.T. had just been taken, after which Danny seemed even more out of it than usual)…

She felt sympathetic towards the teenager, though she didn't remember high school being so hard for her.

Thus when she saw the t-shirt on sale at the mall, she had to buy it. And then force her child to wear it to school the next day.

"What is that?" asked Tucker incredulously at his friend's new t-shirt.

"Mom bought it yesterday," Danny said, faint exasperation coloring his tone. "She wanted me to wear it to school today – wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Well, I think it's kind of creepy," said Tucker. "considering that in an alternate future–"

"Shut up, Tucker," said Danny, a suddenly ugly look crossing his face at the mention of the future-that-could-have-been and his evil self the trio had dubbed 'Dan'.

"Shutting," said Tucker, miming zipping his lips closed.

Sam ran up from behind them, her purple spider backpack slung over one shoulder. "Hey guys," she called. "What's u—what are you wearing, Danny? I don't think I've seen that shirt before."

Danny rolled his eyes and turned to face his female friend. His new black t-shirt had the words "When I Snap, You'll Be the First to Go" written on it in neon green letters, ransom note style.

"My mom thought I was stressed," he said in way of explanation. He glanced down at the letters again. "Ironic, huh?"

Sam couldn't help let out a giggle. "Oh well," she said. "Parents, what are you going to do?"

Danny and Tucker just nodded in agreement. They all turned and walked into the school.

"The worst part is, I actually sort of _like_ the shirt," Danny said mournfully, much to his friends' amusement.

* * *

**A/N: Me + seeing this shirt = instant idea. I'm such a nerd...**


	3. Duct Tape

**Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom, Butch Hartman does...**

"Sam?" called Tucker uncertainly. "Why do you have two rolls of duct tape in your room?"

Sam glanced over at the nightstand Tucker was standing next to. He was staring at the two aforementioned rolls, perplexed.

"I don't know when I'll need duct tape," she said, shrugging.

Tucker turned and looked at her doubtfully. "Two rolls?"

"You can never have too much duct tape," said Sam.

**A few months later…**

"Sorry guys, but I really have to do this alone," said Danny. After making sure that the tape he had used to bind the two to the chairs would hold, he nodded to them and phased through the wall.

"So…" started Tucker dryly, flashing back to their conversation a few months ago. "What was that about never having too much duct tape?"

Sam sulked.

* * *

**A/N: Don't ask. I don't know. Are they dreadfully OOC? Maybe Tucker should've had the duct tape...though, of course, I can totally seeing Sam brandishing duct tape in her parents' direction with a demonic glint in her eyes. I'm so weird.**


	4. Only Six

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does. **

"Morning, Sam," Danny yawned as Sam walked up to him. The Goth looked vaguely disgruntled. It took a few seconds of blearily studying her face before Danny asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, really," Sam sighed, running her hand through her hair. "It's just…my new spider earrings aren't in the shape of true arachnids."

Danny glanced at the purple and black earrings and shrugged. He didn't notice anything weird with them. Then again, he hadn't gotten any sleep last night, so his perspective might be slightly skewed. He was probably missing something really obvious.

"I don't see anything wrong with them," he said, yawning again.

Sam rolled her eyes but let it go because he was so ador—_tired! _She meant _tired_! He was _not _adorable – well, he _was_, but – ugh! She was _not _crushing on one of her best friends!

"Arachnids have eight legs," she said. "My 'spider' earrings only have _six_ legs."

Danny blinked owlishly at her. "And that really bugs you?" he asked, not even noticing the (for once) unintentional pun.

Sam groaned at it, though. "Danny, I love you, I really do, but the puns have _got_ to stop!"

There was a moment of brief silence between the two of them before Sam suddenly realized what she had just said, blushed furiously, and then grabbed Danny's hand to drag him inside the school building. She didn't see that Danny's face was as red as her own as she blabbered nervously on about how ridiculous it was to have spiders with only six legs.

Tucker, who had been hiding behind a nearby bush the entire time, paused the video he was making of them on his PDA and placed it in his bag with a smirk.

_All right! _he thought cheerfully. _And now to send that to everyone I know. _He chuckled evilly until the bell rang and he realized he was going to be late to first period. _Oh, the sacrifices you make for blackmail on your friends…

* * *

_**A/N: I own spider earrings with only six legs. I mentioned it to my friends when they complimented my earrings. Yes, that was amusing.**

**You know, I rather like writing these short scenes. I wonder if I may someday make it to 100...oh, duh, of course someday I'd get 100 _eventually_! If I don't leave the fandom for some reason, that is. Anyway, hope you liked it. I think the fluff balances out the tragedy of Superman and LL.  
**


	5. Blink

**A/N: This is mostly about an episode in Season Three of Doctor Who called 'Blink'. You should watch it, it's really good...in a creepy way. I sort of explained in the fic what the Lonely Assassins, a.k.a. weeping angels, do, but you really should watch the entire episode to get the full gist of it. Hope you can understand it anyway and enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom or Doctor Who. The former belongs to Butch Hartman, the latter belongs to...someone who isn't me. I'll figure it out later.  
**

Danny stumbled inside FentonWorks, his eyes wide.

"Dad?" he called out.

"In the kitchen, Danny!" called Jack.

Danny peered inside the kitchen. His father was sitting at the table, eating some fudge.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Mm-hmm?" he mumbled through the fudge in his mouth, looking over at Danny.

"We don't own any stone angels, do we?" Danny questioned, his eyes darting around the room nervously.

Jack swallowed his fudge, blinking in confusion. Then something seemed to click and he laughed. "Have you been watching Doctor Who?"

"It was Sam's idea," Danny affirmed, shuddering. "She said she found a really good one to keep us awake…and it did...all night…"

"Well, you don't have to worry about the Lonely Assassins at home; we have absolutely no stone angels!" Jack said. "We can't. V-man would totally freak – we wouldn't want to drive him away just because of some decorations!"

"No we wouldn't, would we?" murmured Danny. Then his brain actually processed what his dad had said and his eyes widened. "Hold on, are you saying that _Vlad _is afraid of _stone angels_?"

Jack nodded enthusiastically. "That's exactly right! Ah, I remember…see we were back in college and we had recently gotten into Doctor Who. We finally reached the third season and what was on it but 'Blink' and V-man totally—" Jack kept going, but Danny wasn't listening. He had suddenly come up with a diabolical plan. He desperately tried to resist the urge to chuckle evilly. _Payback at last!_

"Um, sorry Dad, I gotta go…call Sam and Tucker," Danny said.

Jack paused long enough to register him leaving the kitchen and think to himself, '_Didn't he just spend the entirety of last night with them?_' before he shrugged and returned to his reminiscing.

**The next morning**

Vlad woke up slowly, savoring the feeling of the sun shining on his face – wait, what? He always had his blinds closed so the sun didn't wake him up too early.

He cracked open an eye, then leapt out of bed with a startled shout. There was a stone angel, her face in her hands, leaning over his bed right where he had been sleeping.

Vlad slowly back away from the angel, making sure to not blink or look away from it. It was a completely irrational fear, but it also made a twisted sort of sense to him – if ghosts and half-ghosts could exist, then why couldn't the Lonely Assassins?

His path to the door was abruptly interrupted when he bumped into something. He let out a little yelp as he realized there was another angel behind him.

_I'm going to be sent far, far into the past and they'll feed on my amazing potential! _he wailed miserably in his mind. _I don't want to leave! I haven't gotten to kill Jack and claim Maddie as my wife and Daniel as my son!_

Suddenly, Vlad had an idea. He changed into Plasmius and quickly tripled himself. He set his two doubles to watch the angels in his room as he, the original, phased through the floor…right into the arms of another angel.

Vlad let out an unearthly shriek of terror and fled his house, going invisible in case they tried to locate him on the way out.

_They're after meeeeee_, he wailed in his mind. The only safe place he could think of to go to was *shudder* Jack's. His fat, old, annoying friend never had any angels, and if he convinced the idiot to put up the ghost shield, maybe they wouldn't be able to get in and come after him.

Back at Vlad's mansion, Sam, Tucker, and Danny collapsed in laughter. Danny had silently place the angels in Vlad's room as he slept and opened the blinds to wake him up. Then, when Vlad phased through the floor, he had moved the third angel so that Vlad landed right in its arms.

"Please…" Danny gasped out through his laughter. "Tucker, please…tell me you got that on tape!"

Tucker just nodded his head, laughing too hard to be able to speak.

Sam wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. "You know," she said slowly. The boys quieted down a bit to listen to her. "I wonder if 'Midnight' freaked him out, too."

They all collapsed in fresh hysterics.

* * *

**A/N: This was really fun to write, even if probably only a few people are going to get it. XD I'll try to upload another fic that everyone'll understand later.**


	6. Nerves

**A/N: Another chapter, as promised. It's a shortie, sorry.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does.**

When Tucker had stepped into his new apartment, he hadn't been nervous. Okay, maybe a little bit, but it was just the strange feeling of displacement, the fact that he was living in his own place now and he was finally away from his parents.

(He couldn't help but let an excited little yelp out at that.)

After everyone had left and he had unpacked, he had nothing to do. He played around with his PDA for a bit, but he really needed to buy the new one – this one, however much she had been through with him, was simply too old now. She was ancient, one of the very first PDAs he had owned…one of the ones he had bought when he was fourteen, one that had accidently been melded with Skulker and Technus and other ectoplasmic creatures to create the ultimate PDA that wasn't really a PDA anymore, was it? But bottom line, nothing really worked with her anymore, because she was so outdated. He needed a new PDA.

Accepting and bemoaning the fact that he now _really _had nothing to do (unless he was desperate enough to start playing Solitaire), he glanced at the clock and realized that, amazingly enough, it was 9:31. Late enough to go to sleep.

The techno-geek lay in bed quietly. He couldn't fall asleep. Not only was he not sleepy in the slightest, his new accommodations were rather creepy. They lacked any personal touches yet, and the boxes threw disturbing shadows onto the walls. Tucker sighed and silently wished that he was out ghost hunting with Danny, if only to do something familiar.

He was in an unfamiliar town, living next to unfamiliar people, in an unfamiliar apartment. He was also vaguely creeped out by the utter stillness, rather like the calm before the storm.

Tucker rolled over and kicked the covers off, then decided to go get a glass of water. He couldn't sleep and he had the weird feeling that something was in the room with him…_it's just the leftover effects from moving nerves and creepy shadow boxes and no ghosts, _his mind assured him quickly.

Still, it was no surprise that he screamed like a little girl when he put his foot down and something grabbed his ankle.

Danny just laughed from his hiding place under the bed.

* * *

**A/N: I don't really like this one. Maybe it's just the way that it flows kind of weirdly...I like the ending, though. I can see Tucker screaming like that, and Danny would totally wait for a while just to freak Tucker out. XD Hope you had fun reading that.**


	7. Plushie in the Morning

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does.**

A "big-boned" plushie in an orange jumpsuit sat on the nightstand next to Vlad's bed. There was a digital clock where his stomach should be, and as of the moment it was flashing 6:59. Then the minute passed, and as it changed to 7:00, the chaos began.

"Hey, V-man, time to get up! It's nice and early in the morning, just the way you like it, and _I_, Jack Fenton, have come to wake you from your slumb—"

Vlad moaned quietly to himself at Jack's voice. _Why, exactly, did I commission this thing to be made?_ He pulled the pillow over his head, but the Jack-plushie's loud voice bled through easily.

"—so I was thinking that maybe we could have pancakes. Or _waffles_, because waffles are—"

The halfa twitched and gave up trying to ignore Jack's voice. He grabbed the plushie and threw it – _hard_ – against the far wall of his room. It fell to the ground, the alarm shut off.

_Oh, right,_ thought Vlad as he righted his pillow and started to fall back asleep. _That's why I had it made…

* * *

_**A/N: I would _not _be surprised if Vlad actually owned one of these.  
**


	8. Fate of Heroes

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does.**

Dan threw his younger self into a wall in disgust, then quickly flew to where Danny was starting to get up and pinned the smaller male to said wall.

"They say you're a hero," he hissed, sneering. _I used to be a hero. _"They say that you saved all their lives."_ The way that I couldn't. _"But what happens to heroes in the end?"

Danny glared defiantly at him, not answering.

"They go to an early grave," Dan answered himself maliciously, taking pleasure in his younger self's suddenly paler complexion. "And as I exist outside of time now…I would be happy to help you there." _Again, _the deepest part of his mind whispered to him. _We're killing ourself again. _

All the blood had drained from Danny's face. Dan brushed aside the small voice screaming at him from inside his mind and powered up an ectoblast in his right hand, his left still pinning the young halfa to the wall.

"Goodbye, Danny," he said.

* * *

**A/N: I didn't mention this before, but if one of these grabs your attention and you want to continue it or whatever, go ahead! I'd really like it if you told me, though, so I could read it. **


	9. Cake or Death?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does. Nor do I own any of the comedy provided by Eddie Izzard (who is amazing, by the way, go watch him on YouTube).**

The high school-ers were calmly eating their lunch when the Lunch Lady floated into the room.

"YOU!" she screeched, pointing at Sam (Danny took this opportunity to run out of the cafeteria and transform). "Cake OR DEATH?"

Sam looked decidedly unnerved. "Uhh…cake, please."

The Lunch Lady looked slightly miffed. "Very well!" she huffed. "Give her cake!" She snapped her fingers and a slice of vanilla cake with creamy chocolate icing floated out of the kitchen, landing in front of Sam.

"Oh, um, thank you very much," said Sam, slightly dazedly. She had the inexplicable urge to eat it and gave into the temptation. "Mmm, this is very good…"

The Lunch Lady glanced around the room. She spotted Valerie, who was trying to sneak out of the cafeteria and change into her Huntress outfit. "You!" she called. "Cake or death?"

Valerie paused, then spun and faced the Lunch Lady, disbelief plain on her face. "Cake for me, too, please," she said, habit making her add an automatic 'please' to the end of her sentence.

"Very well!" the Lunch Lady said, looking even more annoyed. "Give her cake too!" Another slice of cake floated in front of Valerie moments later. She grabbed it and ran out the door. "We're going to run out of cake at this rate," the Lunch Lady murmured to herself as Valerie left.

As nobody besides the two ghost hunters had left the cafeteria yet, there were still plenty of people for the Lunch Lady to ask. So of course she zeroed in on Dash. "You. Cake or death?"

"Uh, death, please," he said. Then his mind caught up with his mouth and he threw his arms up in front of his face. "No! Cake! Cake, cake, sorry, cake!"

"You said death first, nah-ah ah-ah," said the Lunch Lady, waggling her pointer finger at him. "Death first!"

"No, I _meant_ cake!" said Dash desperately.

"Oh, all right," said the Lunch Lady, crossing her arms and frowning at him. Cake appeared in front of him. "But you're lucky I'm the Lunch Lady, others might not give you this chance."

Dash let out a relieved sigh at the exact moment that Danny phased through the ceiling.

The Lunch Lady turned on him. "Cake or death?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.

"…cake, please," said Danny.

"Well we're _out _of cake!" howled the Lunch Lady. "We only _had _three slices and we didn't expect such a _rush_!"

Danny just stared at her.

"So what do you want?" asked the Lunch Lady, regaining her calm disposition.

"What, so my choice is '_or death_'?" asked Danny incredulously. The Lunch Lady just kept looking at him expectantly. He sighed and, his mind flashing back to Walker's prison, said, "I'll have the chicken."

"Very well," the Lunch Lady said sweetly, materializing a giant chicken leg. "YOU MAY HAVE YOUR CHICKEN _OF DOOM!_"

The fight just went downhill from there.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, I had to do this. 'Cake or Death?' is just perfect for the DP universe, what with the Lunch Lady being in it...random side note: I have a friend at school who Crinzust and I _swear_ looks creepily similar to Eddie Izzard.  
**


	10. The Biology Test

**Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does.**

"All right, class," Mr. Faluca called out. "The tests are out, so be _quiet_. And before any of you think about looking at your table partner's test, don't. All the tests are different, so you won't get the right answers."

The class just nodded along with this dully, some having already started.

"And," Mr. Faluca tacked on the end, "it's, you know, _wrong_ to cheat…"

Several people let out giggles at him adding morals to the end of the do-not-cheat-on-your-tests spiel as an afterthought.

Silence quickly resumed. Danny quickly got down to question 15, which was talking about density-independent factors that affected population growth, and he grinned widely. He recalled what Faluca had said about the density-independent factors: "If a hurricane blows through an area, it doesn't really matter how many animals there are there, does it? They're all dead."

Danny circled the correct answer for that and sped through the rest of the test, easily answering all of the questions. Sometimes it really paid off to have scientists as parents.

**A few days later…**

"What'd you get on your test, Tuck?" Sam asked her techno-geek friend curiously at lunch. The two had Biology during different periods and hadn't gotten to compare their grades yet.

Tucker's face fell. "I got an eighty-five percent. Not enough to drop my grade horribly, but enough that I feel it some. I suppose it's a pretty good score for skimming the book right before the test."

Sam laughed. "You really should study. I mean, at least _you _have time." The two glanced at Danny, who was slumped over the table sleeping, his lunch forgotten and resting by his head. Tucker grabbed the chicken that was on the halfa's plate and moved it to his own as Sam watched in disgust.

"Wha oo 'ake?" Tucker asked with his mouth full.

Sam rolled her eyes at his manners. "I made a hundred with the bonus points added into the score."

"You got the bonus?" Tucker asked incredulously. "I completely blanked on an example of biological magnification and its environmental, economic, and political impacts."

"It was really easy," Sam said, frowning. "That is, if you studied."

Tucker wrinkled his nose. "Why would I study?"

Sam couldn't help but laugh. "What did Danny make?"

The halfa stirred at his name. "Wha?" he mumbled blearily, sitting up and stretching.

"What did you make on the Bio test?" Sam asked.

"O-one hundred five," he said, yawning.

"_What_?" both his friends asked him.

"B-but—" Sam spluttered. "That's – you even got the _bonus_? I _know _that you didn't study!"

"Well, _that_ didn't make you sound like a stalker," Tucker muttered under his breath. Danny and Sam didn't hear him.

"Sam," Danny said, yawning again. "My parents are _scientists. _Failing English is one thing – failing a _science class_? I'd be completely dead before you could blink."

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, kind of abrupt ending. This was inspired by quotes from my teacher and the fact that Danny couldn't _possibly _fail a science test. I am under no delusions that his parents would totally murder him. **


	11. Geometry

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman still does. so unfair...**

All of the students groaned when they walked into their Geometry class and realized they had homework. Generally they got some time in class to work on it, but most of the time they still had to work on it at home.

Their teacher sighed. "Look, kids, I know that you don't like homework—"

A murmur of assent echoed through the room.

"—but it's so you can make sure you really understand what we're doing in class," she pressed on.

The kids just kept looking at her blankly.

"Oh, come on! You know that I always give you time to work on this stuff in class, and none of your homework is even due until Fridays! You have plenty of time!"

"…"

She sighed again. "I always try to give you as much time and as little homework as possible because I know you're all very busy, but I'm not Superwoman, and you aren't either. Um…and men. Women. Heroes."

"Superheroes?" a student said.

"Yes!" she said. "Blanked out for a moment there…I know that none of you are superheroes. You're just regular teens who have to deal with high school, which is a feat in itself, and sometimes have jobs after school."

Team Phantom, in the back of the class, smirked to themselves.

"Nope," said Danny lazily, glancing at his friends. "None of us are heroes, nor do we have jobs after school."

Sam and Tucker snickered as he winked one glowing, green eye.

* * *

**A/N: More quotes from teachers. Sad how school can very easily turn into stories, ne? **

**Oh, I just remembered something that I need to get off my chest real quick: Okay, so last weekend I did _not_ feel the love from you lot. I updated three new chapters and all I got was one review and two story alerts. This made me sad. Reviews are my _lifeblood_ and _inspiration_ and...yeah, you don't care. I'm gonna keep writing whether you review or not, because writing is like breathing as far as I'm concerned. I live a sad, sad life...  
**


	12. Truce

**Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does.**

It was, all the ghosts agreed, decidedly unnerving to celebrate Christmas when their worst enemy was in attendance with all of them, and actually being _nice _to them, when yesterday he almost obliterated several of their number.

It was especially creepy when they slowly realized that he gave out the best gifts. They had no choice but to accept them and love them while remembering that it was this creepy, red-eyed, flame-haired, fork-tongued Phantom who had given it to them…yeah, that was hard. That was really, _really_ hard.

They never understood why he held onto the Truce. There weren't any real rules preventing one ghost from attacking another on Christmas, just a vague sense of '_oh yeah, we all agreed to set aside our differences today and celebrate the holidays'_.

What the ghosts didn't know, and what Dan himself denied, was that he missed the normalcy of Christmases. No matter how much he mentally raged that 'it isn't _true,'_ he missed the regular arguments of his family. He missed the comfort of being around happy, celebrating people, and he definitely missed all the gifts he had given and received.

In a way, he was trying to make up for not being able to give presents to his true family by giving them to the ghosts. That was why he always put thought and effort into them, and why he made sure they were good or useful presents for the ghosts that received them.

For one day every year, the old Phantom, the carefree ghost half of Danny Fenton, shone through and gazed around at his Christmas.


	13. Honeybees

**Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does.**

Danny, Sam, and Tucker were resting peacefully in Sam's theater. The movie was over, and for once they had managed to make it all the way through without any interruptions from ghosts.

"Did you know that honeybees can fly upwards fifteen miles per hour?" Danny said, breaking the silence.

"Really?" Sam asked. Tucker just made a faint sound of acknowledgment to the random fact.

"Yeah," Danny said. "Also, if you gave 150 pounds of honey to a honeybee, the bee would have enough energy to make _thirteen round trips_ to the _moon_!"

"You only memorized that fact because it mentioned the moon," Tucker accused him.

Danny grinned but didn't deny it.

"Where did you learn this?" asked Sam.

"Coffee shop my parents dragged us to," Danny said, shrugging. "The shop had TVs scrolling through stuff about upcoming events like poetry slams, parties, and other things like that, along with what time the shop closed and when they were off for holidays. In between the announcements they had random facts."

"And you remember these facts…_why_?" Tucker asked. Danny shrugged again.

"What else did you learn?" Sam questioned, always eager to learn new things about organisms or nature in general.

"Well…bees can see all the colors humans can except for red," Danny offered.

"Bummer," Tucker mused. "That means you can't taunt bees the same way you do bulls."

"Andale, andale," Danny said dryly. "But it's not really the color, just the movement of the cape."

"Oh, who cares?" Tucker moaned. "You knew what I was talking about."

"So you just filed this info into your head and randomly recalled it now?" Sam asked, interrupting them.

Danny nodded.

"I don't see why you don't do that at school," she muttered.

Danny smiled. "Too much effort," he said, yawning.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, that last bit was a Shikamaru reference. Danny really is smart, he just doesn't have any time to study or do his homework. Also, random facts make a somewhat interesting fic that you actually learn something from. **

**Coming up next: Mr. Quasenberry, the History teacher. **


	14. Mr Quasenberry

**Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does.**

Of the number of History teachers that had taught at Casper High, the current one definitely took the cake for being the weirdest one. Both the student and the teachers agreed on it (not that any of them could really talk about the weirdness levels of someone else when theirs was so high).

**Example 1: The First Day of School**

As the bell rang for second period, a man somewhere between his late twenties and early thirties wandered into the room. His long brown hair was tied in a loose ponytail that fell between his shoulder blades. He was wearing jeans, tennis shoes, and a slightly faded Pink Floyd t-shirt. A black sweatshirt was looped around his waist, the knot tied to the side instead of being on front.

"Hey, class!" he greeted them cheerfully. The class noted with some bemusement that his ears were pierced; small silver hoops dangled from them. "I'm Mr. Quasenberry, but you can call me Mr. Q, Mr. Quasenberry, or Berry Man!"

Crickets chirped.

"Or," he continued on. "If you've seen _Dead Poet Society_ and thus get the reference, feel free to call me 'Captain.' Of course, I'm the History teacher, not the English teacher…" he mused. "Oh well. Let's get started!"

**Example 2: The Pledge of Allegiance**

On the second day of school, after the announcements came on and everyone recited the pledge, the students all sat down. Danny had actually managed to make it to class in time, with no interruptions from ghosts. However, he had missed second period the first day, and hadn't been introduced to Mr. Quasenberry's weirdness.

Thus, he was completely unprepared for the History teacher's special way of bringing insanity to the classroom.

"Hey! The pledge rhymes!"

Team Phantom, sitting in the back, exchanged glances. Several other students around them did as well.

_What?_ they all wondered.

"No, see, look!" Mr. Quasenberry said. He recited the pledge. "Hmm…" he said. "Well, not very much of it rhymes. 'All' and 'God' kind of do, though."

_What__? _was the prevailing thought of the class. 'Indivisible' and 'all' rhymed better. How did 'all' and _'God'_ rhyme?

**Example 3: The Hand Sanitizer Incident**

"Mr. Q?" Mikey asked hesitantly. "Why are you putting hand sanitizer on your sleeve?"

"Hmm?" the History asked, looking up. "Oh, I got some spaghetti sauce on it during breakfast."

Silence. Spaghetti + breakfast =? Does not compute.

_Turkeys that attack you don't really make sense either, though,_ thought Danny to himself. He'd heard of weirder things that spaghetti…for breakfast. _How does he do that__?_

"But surely your shirt doesn't need hand sanitizer on it," Mikey said.

"If it wants to be clean it does," the teacher said.

**Example 4: The Salem Witch Trials**

"Right, so, the Salem Witch Trials!" Mr. Quasenberry said, clapping his hands together. "Okay…what do we know about them?"

"Witches were burned?" Paulina said vaguely, slyly glancing in Sam's direction.

Sam winced, thinking of when she had been captured by the villagers and nearly burned alive. It was only thanks to Danny and Tucker she was still here.

Then again, it had been mostly their fault in the first place…

"Um, yes, except they weren't really witches. There were these girls, the head honcho's daughters, who were _accusing _people of being witches, and then the accused were put on trial. There were all sorts of tests to see if you were a witch or not, like if you sank in water with stones tied to your ankles. If you sank, then obviously you weren't a witch. Too bad you just died." Mr. Quasenberry shrugged. "If you floated…well, you were a witch.

"Some people confessed to being witches. But it basically went like: 'Yes. I am a witch. I admit it.' 'Oh. Really? Hey, that's cool! Let's hang you.' And so on and so forth. Fun business, huh?"

Several of the students were starting to get vaguely creeped out by their teacher. His carefree attitude about teaching and the way that he blandly talked about death, destruction, and mayhem were disturbing.

**Example 5: Trios**

"I can't quite figure it out," Mr. Quasenberry said, looking at Sam, Tucker, and Danny. They had been caught in a fit of hysterics after Danny had reenacted a recent fight with the Box Ghost. "You guys are either the Three Musketeers or the Three Stooges. I'm just not sure which one yet."

They stared straight back at him, nonplussed.

"Yeah…I'm leaning towards the Musketeers."

**Example 6: Colorado vs. Pizza**

"So why, exactly, would you choose the Rhode Island colony to live in over the other colonies, Miss Sanchez?" Mr. Quasenberry asked.

"Because it's warmer," Paulina said after a moment's consideration.

"Warmer than what?"

"Colorado."

Mr. Quasenberry nodded. "Yeah, Rhode Island is warmer than Colorado. Of course, it's also warmer than cold pizza…"

The class: "…"

Yes, Mr. Quasenberry was definitely a unique teacher. But the students wouldn't trade him for any other teacher in the world.

Probably.

* * *

**A/N: I had quotes that were just waiting to be used, and this was an awesome chance to do so. Most of the quotes are from my actual History teacher - he doesn't look or act the same way as Berry Man at all, but he did say a lot of this stuff.**

**OhigoshI'mscared. I'm doing NaNoWriMo, guys. It starts on Monday. I'm going to pants it. This is going to be my first year to do it. Wish me luck.**

**This will probably explain why I won't update very much in the next month. You know, just in case any of you care. At all.  
**


	15. Monopoly

**Disclaimer: Danny Phantom still belongs to Butch Hartman, not Audrianna Nex, however much she may wish she did.**

"This is a pointless game," Skulker grumbled. "Why are we playing this?"

"Because we don't have anything else to do," Spectra said, crossing her arms and glaring down at the game board as she took in her meager amount of paper money. She had only managed to hang in this long during their game of Monopoly because she had several sites with high-paying rent on them.

"How long have we been playing?" Desiree asked, her head drooping down. She wasn't doing horribly, but she wasn't in the lead. In fact, she was just behind Skulker. Spectra was in last place. The therapist scowled at the thought – being last didn't make her happy.

"I, Technus, Master of—" the technology ghost trailed off at the other three ghosts' glares. "…I can tell you that we've been playing for almost 3 hours."

Blank stares. The other ghosts were amazed that so much time had already passed.

"Ugh," Spectra groaned miserably. "We really having no afterlife, do we? We've sat around playing _Monopoly _for _three hours_; the game gets old after the first _thirty minutes_!"

"I'm getting bored, too," Skulker muttered, his robotic head resting on top of his fist as he leaned on the table.

"Oh, you three be quiet!" Technus snapped at them. "At least you aren't being burdened with all these houses and this paper money! It's so _frustrating_!"

The three others ghosts shook their heads in disbelief, eyeing the absurd amount of money Technus had. They still weren't sure how he had somehow managed to end up with _ten _of the twenty five-hundred dollar bills…all they knew was that he didn't cheat to get them.

"Technus?" Spectra said, gritting her teeth. "Having so much of that stuff means that you're _winning_."

"Oh," the long-winded ghost said bemusedly. He didn't really _get _stuff that wasn't about technology. "Really? Well, that's fantastic!"

"AGH!" Skulker roared, slamming his fist down on the table and rising. "I can't take this! I am the Ghost Zone's greatest hunter! I cannot – I _will not_ – be defeated by the likes of _this _idiot!" He flung an arm in Technus's direction.

Technus huffed. "You're just jealous because I'm winning!" the technology ghost said, conveniently forgetting that he hadn't even _known _that before the other ghosts had told him.

"I'm leaving," Skulker said, starting to float away.

"Have fun!" Desiree called after him mockingly, which reminded him that, oh yeah, they were all stuck here in this stupid prison where there were only five options for 'fun' if you had absolutely nothing to do:

Go sit in your _cell _with absolutely nothing to do (too dull)

Go eat some of Lunch Lady's food (which would normally be a good way to pass time, but she'd been in a mood recently and all the food she made would be burnt, so that was out)

Annoy Walker (something that was depressingly easy. All you had to do was mention 'breaking the rules,' 'Phantom,' or both.)

Pick a fight with some other ghost (said fight would be ended almost immediately by the prison guards, the annoying pests)

Or, of course:

Play a board game (Monopoly was the only complete board game. All the others were beaten up or missing crucial pieces/cards/etc)

Really, it wasn't that much of a choice.

"All right, fine, I'll stay," Skulker grumbled, turning around and sitting back down at the table.

The other ghosts paid no attention to his sudden decision, merely continuing with the game. Skulker knew that they honestly wouldn't have cared if he really _had _quit right then; it would have just meant that there were more lands up for grabs.

For a brief moment, Skulker almost wished that Phantom would get caught (again) and arrange a prison break (again), if only to save them from this boring and monotonous existence. Then it was his turn, so he grabbed the dice and rolled.

"Ha! Look who just landed on the Jackpot!"

* * *

**A/N: Prison must be boring, especially Walker's prison. Yeah, this was another fic born from random facts floating around on the screens of TVs at my church. Man, NaNoWriMo ends today...sad, sad, sad. I'll do better next year (I failed this year). **

**If there are mistakes anywhere in this, tell me so that I can fix them.**


	16. The Lunar Eclipse

**Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does.**

One definite plus to being a half-ghost, Danny mused, was having such freedom. Of course, it came with prices and restraints (having to fight ghosts all the time, not doing well in school, getting little sleep, etc), but in the end Danny was pretty sure it was worth it.

This night was one such night that he believed it was completely worth it all. Quietly, the Fenton transformed to Phantom and floated up out of his room. He stretched, popping his back, and then positioned himself so that he was floating perpendicularly to the ground. His eyes were bright with excitement as he stared up into the sky.

Tonight was a total lunar eclipse, the first one since almost three years ago (February 20, 2008 – he had gone outside with his parents and watched it) and the first since he had gotten his ghost powers. It was also, he remembered with some fascination, the first total lunar eclipse to occur on the day of the Northern Winter Solstice since 1638.

The moon slowly darkened as the half-ghost floated there, his arms positioned behind his skull, his fingers laced together to form a head rest. Soon, only a sliver of silvery-white was left. A few seconds later, he blinked, and even that was gone.

_A total lunar eclipse. _

The half-ghost was ecstatic.

He stayed on top of the roof of Fenton Works for a little over an hour, staring up at the moon and relishing in the calmness and tranquility surrounding him. There were few noises at this time of night, and definitely no ghosts – the former because few people were awake, the latter because they were all preparing for Christmas and observed a semi-truce on the Solstices anyway.

Eventually, though, the shadows cloaking the moon began to recede. Danny closed his eyes with a grimace, disappointed that it was all going to end now.

Still, he stayed until the moon was back to its regular silvery-white shade and then slipped back down into his bedroom, where the aspiring astronaut promptly fell asleep…but not before mourning slightly that the eclipse couldn't have lasted longer than it already had.

* * *

**A/N: The lunar eclipse really was beautiful, you guys. If you didn't watch it...I feel really sorry for you. I really did climb out onto the roof of my home and sit there for a while thinking and staring at the moon - not as long as Danny, who watched it for the whole time (which hasn't even happened here). That would probably take a couple of hours. I was only there for fifteen, twenty minutes? Still...it was so peaceful out there. Calm, quiet, still...it was amazing. It's probably going to become a ritual for me to go outside and stare up at the moon in the dead of night, lunar eclipse or not. I...I liked that feeling. A lot. **

**Well, enough of me rambling. You all probably didn't read that anyway, and if I don't cut myself off now, this Author's Note will be longer than the fic itself...  
**


	17. Inevitable Questions, Improbable Answers

**A/N: Butch Hartman owns DP, not me. *sad face***

It was inevitable, of course, that someone would notice the amount of scars he was collecting left and right. True, the fact that he was part ghost somehow equated to him having some pretty decent healing abilities (probably because when he was in ghost form, he was technically dead, and thus it didn't affect his human form…or something), but _eventually _they would either notice or something would scar in a very visible place.

Which is why he was trying to explain to Lancer about the long, pale line just under the curve of his chin, stretching from his ear to halfway across his throat, that Lancer hadn't noticed until today. It was from an attack by some ghost – he couldn't even remember which one now, there had been too many, and it had probably been quite a while, to boot – but Danny couldn't exactly come out and say _that_, now could he?

"Daniel, that was _not_ caused by fiddling with a post-it note and getting a paper cut underneath your chin – which sounds completely ridiculous anyway, if you must know!" Lancer said, shaking his head in slight disbelief that the teenager would think that he'd even believe that in the first place. "If you're going to lie, at least try to make it somewhat believable—"

The teacher cut himself off and hit his forehead with his palm. "I'm supposed to be encouraging kids _not _to lie, not encouraging them to tell _better _lies!"

Danny blew out a frustrated breath. It was always especially hard to spin a good tale when you didn't even know how something had happened in the first place…

"Fine," he said, shifting his backpack so that it rested more comfortably on his back. "Sam and I were mock-fighting one time – Tucker was on the sidelines – and she accidentally caught me there with her nails. It started bleeding, we cleaned it up, and I guess it scarred. I never noticed."

Lancer shook his head again. "You honestly expect me to believe that you have a scar like that because of Samantha's _nails_?"

"Hey, you've seen what Paulina can do with hers when she's pissed!" Danny protested. "Besides," he drawled, somewhat amused at the (actually somewhat truthful) statement he was about to speak. "Sam doesn't cut her nails – she sharpens them."

Lancer slumped in his seat, defeated. "For some reason I can't bring myself to disagree with you on that one…very well, Daniel, you may go."

"Thanks," Danny said quickly, immediately moving towards the door. It was Friday, after all.

"Oh, and Daniel?" Lancer called after him. The teenager turned and looked at him questioningly. "Do try to finish your homework this weekend…and stay away from your friends' nails…"

With a rather mocking salute and a cheery, "Sir, yes, sir!" the teenager left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Lancer sighed and leaned forward, rubbing his temples. He really wished young Daniel would stop lying to him, and to everyone else. He didn't know what the teenager was doing – he wasn't sure he _wanted _to – but he was concerned, and if this continued for too much longer, he would definitely need to get the parents involved.

'_Well_,' he thought, looking out the window and watching as three figures walked side-by-side down the road, playfully pushing against each other and laughing, '_at least he has some good friends he can count on…'

* * *

_A/N: OH MY GOD I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME A MONTH TO ACTUALLY POST SOMETHING NEW! I'm a horrible person! *starts crying*

This was inspired because one of my friends actually _did _scrape me with a one of her nails one time, and it scarred...it was on my hand, though. But seriously, that was in October or November or something, and it's _still here_.


	18. Where's My Boyfriend?

**Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does.**

Danny really should have taken into account the fact that Ember was Skulker's girlfriend when he sealed the three-inch-tall ghost into his thermos. However, he forgot to remember this important fact, merely thinking of how grateful he was that he'd actually been able to capture Skulker fairly quickly and would thus get more sleep.

Of course, that lovely plan was ruined when Valerie showed up and he had to lead her on a merry chase for a little over half an hour until he could get away.

The next morning seemed as though it would be just another day…until first period. Danny only had seconds of warning before Ember phased through the walls and moodily stomped over to him.

"Where's my boyfriend, dipstick?" she demanded, leaning over his desk. Danny glanced frantically around the room as his peers stared in shock at the ghost who had just nonchalantly entered the room and was now looming threateningly over Fenton.

"Umm…" was all he could get out, though inside he was very grateful that Valerie wasn't in this class and that Ember was, for some reason, taking an apparently non-violent manner with the interrogation. Of course, who knew how long _that _would last?

"He told me he was going out last night, and then he didn't come back," Ember carried on, her eyes boring into Danny's. "So where. Is. He?"

Danny chose to remain silent.

"Dipstick!" Ember barked. "_What did you do with my boyfriend?_"

"I locked him in the thermos, Ember!" he snapped back, finally starting to get annoyed with the pushy ghost and the attention his classmates were giving him. The halfa wished Sam and Tucker were in his class. "Next time, would you mind telling your three-inch boyfriend – God, that's still so weird! – not to wake me up at 2:00 a.m. on a school night? I have to go to school in the mornings, unlike you guys!"

Surprisingly enough, Ember started laughing. "You want _me _to tell _Skulker _to give up his favorite piece of prey?" she chuckled. "Oh, you're so cute sometimes." She then proceeded to condescendingly pat Danny on the head, though she withdrew her hand quickly enough when he let out a growl and allowed his eyes to flash green.

The class watched with some kind of horrified awe the easy banter that flew back and forth between the (very attractive and familiar pop singer) ghost and (the nerd/loser/weirdo/freak of the class) Fenton. They were also very confused as to what the two were talking about and why Fenton seemed so familiar with the ghost(s). Mr. Lancer was coming to realize that if Danny had been interrupted at least _once _on a school night during the two years since ghosts had started to appear in Amity Park, it probably would have happened again, seeing as the Fentons lived on top of a ghost portal, and thus maybe the fact that he was so tired all the time was because of a legitimate reason.

"So," Ember said. "Just give me the thermos and I'll be on my merry way."

It was Danny's turn to laugh. "You're kidding me, right? I'm not just going to let him and the other ghosts in the thermos out to cause havoc again! Not that they would be much of a threat, seeing as Skulker lost his suit by the time I sealed him up and the Box Ghost is the only other ghost in there…"

Ember scowled. "It's in your locker, isn't it? Just in case you need it during the school day."

"Nope," Danny said, a wide smile spreading across his face. "I left it at home today." That was a minor lie – he had discovered that if he slung the thermos over his back in ghost form and then changed back to human, the thermos would disappear, and then reappear when he turned into Phantom again.

Ember let out a frustrated growl. "Well, I can't exactly go over there, since your parents are tinkering with the shield again!"

Danny laughed softly before the words hit him. "Wait, what?"

"They're messing with the shield again," Ember repeated.

Danny let his head fall to his desk with a thump. "Agh! I just got used to the changes of _last _time!"

Ember smirked. "Having trouble getting into your own house, dipstick?"

"Shut up," the halfa muttered from where his head was now resting against the desk.

"Well," Ember sighed. "I guess since you won't just give me thermos _now_, I'll have to stick around all day until you feel like letting my boyfriend go."

There was a dismayed groan from Danny that was heard by the rest of the silent class. He then started thumping his head against the table lightly as Ember contentedly settled herself into the empty desk behind him, sticking her boots up on the desk.

"Feel free to continue classes," she said with a wicked grin.

Danny looked up with a long-suffering expression fixed on his face. "You might as well," he told Lancer. "She's not going to be leaving."

Very unnerved, the teacher began the lesson again, and the class settled back into their dull stupor, except for quick glances at the ghost with flaming hair and the occasional whisper.

And in the end, Ember followed the teenager around all day, making snide comments and demands for him to free Skulker during every class, until finally he got fed up enough that he snarled he would let the egotistical hunter go at the end of the day, if she would just _shut up!_

Ember shrugged, mimed sealing her lips, and paid attention to the last couple of classes. When the final bell rang and all other students were leaving the school, Danny slipped into the restroom, transformed into Phantom, grabbed the thermos off his back, and flew out into the hallway where Ember was waiting. He rather sullenly opened the cap and allowed Skulker to be set free, capped it again before the Box Ghost could escape, and made his way home before the disoriented three-inch ghost could start shrieking at him.

Of course, then he had to deal with the newly-updated ghost shield surrounding his house, which was _almost _difficult to force his way through, even in human form, something that worried him slightly.

'_I should probably tell them soon,'_ the teenager thought to himself dejectedly, stepping through the front door. The security system immediately zeroed in on him and started to attack. _'Yeah, definitely soon…God, this has been an awful day…and tomorrow will likely be very similar.'_

The teenager groaned aloud just at the thought of it. Well, at least he probably wouldn't have to deal with another ghost following him around all day to his classes.

Right?

* * *

A/N: Well, now I seriously want to go and write several other oneshots where different ghosts follow him around all day. That would be really funny! ^_^


	19. The Christmas Exchange

**Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom, obviously. Butch Hartman does. **

"You're kidding me, right?" Danny said. His arms were folded across his chest as he floated above the ground.

"No, I'm being completely serious!" Desiree protested. She held out the hat again. Danny stared at it doubtfully before finally sighing, reaching into it, and plucking out a slip of paper.

"_Youngblood_?" he yelped, reading the slip. He groaned in dismay. "I have to get a gift for _Youngblood_?"

"Hey, you drew the slip," Desiree shrugged. "At least you don't have to buy presents for all, like we've been doing for the past hundreds of years. We finally decided that we would draw slips of paper and whoever's name we got, we would get something for them, and if we wanted to buy anyone else stuff, we could do that, too." She started to fade back into smoke, having been delegated the task of passing out the slips and still having quite a few to go. "Besides, Youngblood's not even that hard of a person to get something for, or one of your 'worst enemies' – I heard Nocturne's been going around on a rampage after he drew _your _name out of the hat." With that, she vanished completely.

Danny facepalmed. "Oh my God," he moaned. "She _says _he's not one of my worst enemies, but he's an annoying little pest – and now I have to get a present for him!" he sighed. "Well, at least it wasn't Skulker…or Vlad. Oh my God, that would have been awful."

The teenager glanced at the clock tower across town. It was just after three in the morning.

"Brilliant," he muttered. "Many thanks for it being the break…" The halfa started t o head towards home. "Ugh, I hope Mom and Dad don't make me get a gift for _Vlad_ now that he's living in town and all…stupid megalomaniac fruit loop."

The Christmas celebrations this year were much better (from Danny's point of view) than last year's, probably because this time he wasn't trapped in an annoying poem and actually knew what was going on. He hadn't been able to get away from his family until rather late at night, and from the looks of things he was the last to have arrived at the ghosts' party. It wasn't _entirely_ his family's fault, however, as he had gotten lost on the way.

"Hey, Youngblood!" Danny called out a few minutes after arriving, spotting the child ghost (decked out in full pirate gear) by the refreshment table, eating cake. "Here," he said, tossing the somewhat clumsily wrapped present at the pirate when he turned around.

Youngblood grinned excitedly as he tore through the wrapping paper. His grin turned into an expression of awe as opened the box and saw his present.

"Oh my God," he whispered. "Thanks, Phantom!" he all but shouted, looking up.

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "You're welcome," he said.

The teenager stayed for a few more hours before he begged off for sleep. He was quite happy with the present Nocturne gave him, which turned out to be long dreams that were meant to be really good ones, and even if he didn't get very much sleep their side effects would leave him feeling well rested. He thanked the ghost awkwardly, sincere in his gratitude upon receiving the gift but put off by how strongly the ghost was glaring at him angrily.

A few days after Christmas, Danny sighed to himself.

"Why on Earth did I give that to Youngblood?" he asked, staring up at the sky. "That was _such _a stupid thing to do!"

Then, shaking his head, he went back to chasing down the young ninja who was swooping around town.

* * *

A/N: Fair warning to all of you, the next two chapters are going to be the shorter DP one-shots that were on my profile - I'm moving them here because THEY ARE TOO SHORT. If you haven't read them yet, great, feel free to read them. If you have...well, then you don't have to read them, do you?


	20. Leaving

**Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does.**

It was quiet out in the streets at three a.m. There were, surprisingly enough, no ghosts about – that could be seen, at any rate. Fog was swirling around, muffling the few sounds of the night and dimming the already faint glow of the streetlamps further.

From the fog came a slow, weary tread of combat boots against pavement. A few seconds later, a young woman appeared from the fog, dressed in a long, black trenchcoat that was buttoned up. The fog obscured the lower half of her body.

She stopped in front of the streetlamp for a moment and stared up at it from just underneath, blinking at the light. She exhaled slowly, noisily, and stepped towards the edge of the circle of light.

The woman hesitated, one foot wavering on the other side of the boundary of light. She glanced backwards. No one was there. No one was stopping her from leaving, from doing what she had to do. She didn't _have _to leave. There could be some other way, some other method that wouldn't involve her leaving without telling any of them – though she was sure _he_, at least, knew what she was trying to do.

Hopelessness in the face of what was happening (along with what_ could_ happen) warred with uncertainty of the best method across her face. She knew that she could find a way to stop this if she took this path, but would she find it fast enough?

_I have to do this,_ she thought to herself. _It's the only surefire way._

Defeat and despair danced across her face now as she made up her mind. She looked further back, peering into the dark, hungrily drinking in the sight of her town for the last time in a long time.

A tear slowly traced its way down her pale cheek, sparkling like a miniature crystal in the pale light. She shook her head almost angrily and pivoted to face the darkness outside her small circle of comfort from the dark night and heavy decisions.

She walked away from her town and the life that she'd always known, head down and hands in pockets. She would solve this problem, fix this catastrophe.

_It's going to be okay._

The fog parted where she came in contact with it and closed behind her, swallowing her slight figure.

A pair of emerald eyes watched solemnly as she left from their invisible perch on top of the light. The owner momentarily closed his eyes and grimaced in pain.

_This is the only way_, he reminds himself. _She knows what she's doing, she has a plan – she has to do this._

He stared in her direction long after she had disappeared from his heightened senses.

_You can do this, Sam. I believe in you.

* * *

_

A/N: So, this is the first DP fic I ever wrote. As stated in my Author's Note last chapter, I moved it off of my profile because it was so short_ - _it's the same thing with the next chapter. You have been warned.

No, I still don't know what this is about.


	21. Lost Love

**Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does.**

"Talking"

_"Thoughts"_

**_"Poem or emphasized thoughts"

* * *

_**

Sam Deer, a senior in high school, slowly tapped his pencil against his desk as his eyes flicked down the list handed to him by his teacher. It was of feelings – they were supposed to pick one and use it as the title of a poem. His sapphire blue eyes halted on 'lost,' then went drifted down to 'love' a few words below it. For some reason he felt as though he knew the way that they would be said, with a slight accent—

—_purple lips quirked up in a sad smile, a lilting voice speaking roughly… "Better to have loved and lost than have never loved at all, right D—?" cut off no she's gone where'd she go this can't have happened __**where's my S**_—

Sam shuddered. He had never really gotten used to the random flashbacks of his old life. All he had remembered when he woke up with amnesia a little less than a year ago was the name 'Sam.' It didn't quite fit him, but at the same time it felt somehow…_right_.

He frowned. Well, if the words had leaped out at him like that, maybe if he let himself write freely, he would unconsciously be able to access his blocked memories. _It's worth a shot,_ he thought, and pulled out a sheet of paper.

_**They say it's better to have loved and lost**_

_**Than to have never loved at all**_

The raven-haired senior paused. What came next? It was poetry, of course, so it was just writing what you felt, right? _So_…he let the feeling nestling in his heart expand, grow. As he did, he just felt emptier. He felt as though something very important was missing...

_Duh, _he thought. _Your __**memories**__. Your entire life from before two years ago is a __**blank slate.**_

Sam glanced towards the clock. They hadn't gotten the list until only fifteen minutes were left in the period. They had ten minutes left – he'd spent a while dallying.

His eyes turned back towards the paper. Something missing, huh? He composed the next two lines, making sure the word order was as he meant it and how he felt was entered into the equation as well, then wrote it down.

_**But worst still would be to lose a love**_

Yes, he could feel that he had lost someone. Someone important to him.

_**And not know who you lost**_

Someone he had lov—

—_amethyst eyes sparkling with laughter; a high, tinkling laugh; a silky black curtain of hair partially in a ponytail; a beautiful purple and black dress swishing noiselessly around daintily slippered feet; slender porcelain hands clutching a golden ring as he flew (_flew?_) away—_

—ed?

Yes. He suddenly ached with pain, but wrote down another line.

_**Mother, sister, lover, friend?**_

—"_WE ARE NOT LOVEBIRDS!"_

"_We're just friends, I swear! Just really good friends!"_

"_Will you be my girlfriend?" _

"_I knew it! I knew you two would get together! God, it was sooo obvious. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go collect the money I just won from that bet…"—_

_**Who was it? Who did I lose?**_

—"_Don't leave me, please don't leave me…_

"_Please. Please…I love you…"—_

The bell rang, signaling the end of class. Sam quickly jotted down the last line, sighing sadly. The emotions tangled in with his flashbacks were awful. He would have to sort through them later, try to make sense of them.

He shoved his papers into his bag and slung it over his shoulder, ready to head back home to his – empty – apartment. He walked out of the room; his shoulders were slumped as the last line he had written down echoed mockingly in his ears.

…_**I can't remember.

* * *

**_

A/N: So, this is the fourth DP fic that I wrote. As stated in other notes, I felt it was too short and thus moved it here. It's kind of...ugh. There's a reason I don't write poetry very often. It's not too good...poetry is probably the hardest thing to write. For me, at least.

__


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Danny Phantom