Woah, I never though I'd actually get to writing this story, much less publish it. This is actually the first time I grew a pair and got brave enough to write a story by myself (Treat it gently, first story here). So this is the prologue to this very long, and complicated, idea I came up with a while back. It's basically one long conspiracy theory behind certain events in the show that builds up my version of Vlad and a few other character's back-stories. I just think there needs to be a logical explanation as to why it took Vlad 20 years to plan a reunion to get revenge on Jack! Anyway, I choose Sam to thrust in the middle of my story and upgraded her a bit to fit into the plot by making her a ..um..well, you'll see. So I have this story split into 3 parts: the "backstory" with Sam's childhood, seasons 1 and 2, and finally season 3.

I must warn you though, the first part is filled with OC's because I don't have much cannon to go on pre-Danny Phantom. Still I tried to make them as real as possible. Just try not to get attached to any of them...

Okay! Let's get this thing started! I present to you, "Just Below The Surface".

Prologue

When Sam heard the official news report that "The Villainous Vlad Masters/Plasmius" was slain, ironically, by the formidable Disasteroid she did not celebrate along with the rest of the world. Yes, she managed to maintain a smile throughout the celebration party and endured the long television interviews that released gossip to satisfy the curiosity of the public. But the minute she arrived into the privacy of her dark room, Samantha Manson broke down into fits of frustration, anger, and regret.

"Damn you, Vlad!" In blind anger, Sam swept all the content off her desk in a powerful blow. She overturned furniture and abused her belongings.

Sam tore off the black cuffs adorning her wrists, and the second she did, she screamed at the top of her lungs. Object began to fly uncontrollably, smashing into walls, spontaneously combusting, and creating a swirling vortex around the girl whose eyes were now emitting strong a blinding purple light.

She was alone in the house so no one could hear her suffering. Her parents would soon be there, but she didn't care. From that point on, no matter how many people were surrounding her, Sam Manson would always feel alone.

Alone in her thoughts.

Alone in her secrets.

In the back of her mind, she acknowledged the walls of the room slowly rotting in sync to her intensifying power. Their dark violet color burned slowly to black as the ceiling and carpet begun to do the same.

At one point in the midst of her uncontrollable chaos, everything froze. As her belongings were suspended in the air, a purple-stoned amulet floated slowly to the girl. Her eyes drooped and began to water as she stared longingly at the gem. But the memories rushed back to her all too fast, causing her to shut her eyes furiously as she channeled her power to the stone. It shattered into traces of purple smoke as the rest of the debris continued to swirl around her.

Another scream erupted from her throat from the emotional and physical pain. She collapsed on the ground in the middle of the chaos. The storm seemed to grow stronger, faster, stronger, faster until...

She dropped her arms in defeat as the room calmed with her actions, finally letting inevitable tears slowly form in her eyes. "Why?" The girl whispered quietly as she hugged her legs and stared up at the ceiling.

"Why wasn't I enough?"

Within the next twenty minutes she had collected a giant heap of papers, pictures, and a variety of expensive objects. True, most have already been destroyed from her outburst, but there was plenty of other things to gather.

Her eyes were red from her previous lamentation, but she wore a sober expression. Her black bracelets were once again on her wrists.

Sam struck a match and threw it into the fireplace, creating an impressive bonfire. One by one she tossed everything she'd collected into the flames. She searched every nook and cranny of her vast room, looking for specific items -anything that indicated her connection with Vlad. Once located, they all were consumed by the flames.

When the last piece of evidence had been thrown into the inferno, she sat down in front of the fireplace in silence as shadows danced around the room. She watched the blaze purge all the sins she'd done.

...but were they sins? Was everything just a matter of point of view? Didn't her intentions count for anything? Could her previous actions be justified?

It didn't matter, no one would understand anyway. In the end, it was Vlad's own doings that could never be forgiven by the world, so why should anyone care to listen to her statements if she was guilty simply by association?

Even if it was in her past.

While the last of material burned into nothing but ashes, all the lonely girl thought of were her regrets. What she should have done! What should have happened! No, it wasn't her fault! It was his. Why?! Why didn't he stop?! Why didn't he listen! What did she do to deserve this! He was the one at fault, not her!

So...why was she the one that always ended up with the consequences?

Sam knew she would never lay eyes on him again. She knew she could never say sorry or express her feelings. There would never be a fresh start.

But Sam also knew that even if things ended differently, she still wouldn't forgive him. She couldn't! She couldn't let go of all the pain he had caused. The anger, the false hopes, the bitterness, the loneliness -everything! It still burned within her like a fire. Even in his death, Vlad still agonized Sam as she lay there feeling an immense wave of desperation.

Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't that she hated him. Maybe she was just...hurt. Maybe she just had wanted to feel important to him again. Not just a powerful toy or some lost responsibility.

Sam reached into her pocket and held her balled fist in her lap. She slowly uncurled her fingers to reveal a white king piece. The girl, her bangs draping over her face, shook her head. Her fingers closed over the chess piece again and stuffed it back into her pocket.

He never could beat her at chess.

The fire began to die down, darkening the shadows of the room. Feeling her eyes water up again, Sam allowed herself one last penitence before she walked out of the room never to speak of his name again, except in recreated fables told to children. Like the extinguishing fire, Vlad would be nothing but embers of a distant memory. Because, like the fire, Vlad was consumed by his own obsessions and desires. He had lost sight of what was important.

"Why didn't you listen..."

And with that, my friends, we embark on a long journey of self discovery, loss and whatever lies deep under the surface.

Review please!