Author's Note: This is just an angsty one-shot I though up randomly and couldn't get out of my head, so I hope you all enjoy! First DP fic, but I am soon going to Co-Write one and do one of my own! Watch out for them!
She stared down at the white casket, tears leaking from her eyes. Sam Manson never cried, and everyone knew it; but today was an exception. Today, as she stared down at the scorched body of the white-haired ghost boy she had once called her best friend and, more recently, her fiancé. One of her pale hands rested on her swollen belly; their unborn child would never know its father. Tucker's arm was wrapped around her shoulders, but she didn't feel it. All she felt was numb. He was gone. The love of her life, taken from her in an instant because of one ghost, one ghost that just happened not to miss when it took aim. His neon green eyes were closed, and they wouldn't open again. As Sam stared down at him, she knew that this time it was for real. He wasn't half-dead. He wouldn't jump up any second with new powers to show her, that excited grin on his face. No, Danny was gone. He was in his full afterlife now.
"Sam…?" Tucker asked in a hesitant whisper, not wanting to disturb the rest of the mourners who were there, there to grieve over the loss of the ever-popular halfa who had saved their world five short years ago. The Goth in question managed to tare her bloodshot eyes away from the corpse in front of her to look at her geeky friend. Although he was on the verge of tears himself, he held himself together; Danny wouldn't want this. He would want them to move on, to do the best without him.
"Sam….It'll be alright. You know….you know that he wouldn't –"
"That he wouldn't want this? Yeah, I know. But…but…" Sam couldn't finish. She put a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the loud sobs that were now wracking her body. Tucker sighed, wrapping his arms around her in the best hug he could manage without crushing the growing baby inside of her.
"Sammy."
Sam snapped her head up from Tucker's shoulder, glaring at him. It was Danny's funeral; she knew she shouldn't be focusing on nicknames, but Tucker knew she hated it when he called her Sammy. The depressed Goth punched Tuck's arm.
"Don't call me Sammy, Tucker; Especially not now. It's not the time," she said in an angry whisper as fresh tears continued to pour from her violet eyes. That was what Danny used to call her. Tucker had absolutely no right to –
"What are you talking about, Sam?" Tucker asked, staring bewilderedly at her, wondering if it was possible that she had completely lost it, if she had broken now that Danny was gone.
"You mean you didn't…?" Tucker shook his head.
"Sammy."
There it was again, that familiar whisper right by her ear that only she seemed to be able to hear. She looked around wildly, searching for the source as Tucker looked on, concerned but not intervening; he didn't feel he should.
"Sammy. It's okay. It's just me," the voice whispered, pausing for a minute. Sam could almost picture him smiling in the brief silence.
"Sammy, take care of yourself. Take care of the baby. I love you so much, Sammy. I'll be watching out for you always."
Then, just as soon as it had come, the voice had vanished. Sam was crying even harder, but not from sadness. A small smile crept onto her lips. She wasn't exactly sure what that was. Maybe it was his spirit. Maybe it was just his post-human consciousness reassuring her that everything would be okay. Perhaps she really had just lost it, and it was simply her imagination playing a trick on her. But either way, Sam knew she would be okay. And as she turned her head, she could have swore to the end of the earth that she saw the shimmering form of something leaving the church, and heard sweet laughter echoing in the room; Danny's laughter. And she laughed with it.