Prologue

Far into the west coast, lay a decimated land. Debris and metal shards are all that is left of this once thriving town..., Amity Park. Fires burn in the distance never to be put out, and standing in the midst of the chaos, are two lovers, some of the only survivors. A young man, of only seventeen, his ragged, unkempt, ebony hair hangs low in his pale face, shrouding his tear-filled azure eyes, his serrated black and orange jumpsuit stained with the marks of battle; the woman standing next to him, about seventeen herself, just barely reaching his height, equally worn, her dark hair, hanging limply just past her shoulders, shreds of dark fabric what once were her clothing hang about her thin figure, her lavender eyes containing a stare of disbelief, hatred even. Her high- pitch shrill of anger echoes throughout the desolate town.

"I hate you Daniel Fenton, I hate you and I never want to see you again," the young adolescent woman screams at the trembling young man standing before her.

Daniel or Danny, as he was better known, hangs his head in defeat.

"Please Sam, I never meant for this to happen...," he begins, wrapping his arms around her as she sobs.

"Don't you dare touch me," she warns, seething as she pulls away from his embrace, "...just go."

"But Sam I ..." he begins again, but she cuts him off.

"Save it for someone who cares!"

With those words she runs from him, bent on putting as much distance between him and her as humanly possible. She has no intention of ever encountering him again; he had hurt her and there was nothing that he could do, nothing that he could say that would ever change what he had done.

Chapter 1- The Difference

Twenty-one year old Sam Manson's mauve eyes snapped open, met by the blinding morning light. As she tried to calm her breathing, Sam surveyed her surroundings. The room was barely lit, but sunlight was streaking through her heavy black curtains, highlighting the worn, dark lilac walls of the room. Soft, crimson- colored blankets lay strewn about in a torrential mess on the dark navy, leather couch she had been sleeping on, a testament to the battle she had fought to stay asleep the night before. Although she had not meant to, she dreamed of him again, try as she might, for the past four years she had not been able to keep her mind off of him. She knew that she should have hated him; he had stood back and watched as their home slowly began its descent towards darkness. Before he could stop it, it had fallen under the control of a band of rogue spirits, their commander was none other than Vlad Plasmius, his archenemy. He had watched as most of their family, and their friends had been captured and most likely, killed. After their last fight, he simply disappeared, out of her life forever. Yet despite all this, she still loved him.

In her heart she knew that she had not meant the words that she had so blindly spat at him all those years ago, but nonetheless, she had said them, he had gone for good, and she could never take them back. The phone at her side rang, and sluggishly; she turned to answer it, if only to stop its incessant beckoning.

"Hello," she muttered groggily, trying to wake herself up enough to focus.

"Sam..." a familiar voice rang from the other end of the line.

"Danny..." she questioned, her spirits rising to a crescendo.

"No Sam... It's Tucker."

Reality banged on the doors of her tortured mind like an unwelcome visitor, he was never coming back.

"What's going on with you," she somehow managed to mutter, after snapping herself forcefully away from her thoughts.

"Sam, you're not going to believe this, I'm at Vlad's mansion..., with Danny."

She nearly dropped the phone in her disbelief.

"Tucker is this a joke, because if it is it's not funny!"

"Sam why would I lie to you about something like this," he questioned, sounding hurt that she would even ask him something like that.

"May I talk to him?"

"Sure Sam."

Sam heard rustling as Tucker got Danny on the phone. The minute she heard his voice, Sam could have sworn that her heart had skipped a beat.

"Sam...Is it really you," she heard his familiar, loving voice ask at the other end of the line.

"Danny..." her voice trailed, she was at a loss for words.

"Yes?"

"I'm Sor..."

Her voice was cut off by the deafening roar of a sudden explosion. Then, the line went dead.

"Danny? Danny... Are you there," she called out to him, praying that he would answer her desperate plea.

The only answer she received was silence. Dropping the phone she frantically, rushed upstairs to her room. Once she arrived, she dove underneath her bed, withdrawing a long, cardboard box. Rising, she carefully lifted the lid. Concealed within that box were items that she had not dared to touch in four years... her ghost hunting equipment. After spending several minutes sifting her way through an array of weapons, she finally found the one that she was looking for. Gingerly, she strapped the Fenton Bazooka to her side. Knowing that speed was of the essence, she ran to her Thunderbird, the speed demon of the day. She had to find him; thankfully, she knew exactly where to look.

For hours she barreled down numerous back alleyways heading towards Madison, Wisconsin. Her mind reeled, silently; she prayed that she would not be too late. Hours later, she had reached a familiar street. Something was wrong, very wrong. With terror, she saw that the sky was ablaze with fire, the airless smoke leading her to Vlad's stately manor. Panicked, she reached for her cell phone and reported the emergency. Shivering with fear, she climbed out of her car, and waited rather impatiently.

Within minutes, scores of fire rescue squad cars and trucks pulled up to the property. Helplessly, Sam looked on as they entered the blaze searching for any survivors. The longer the search took, the more apprehensive she became. Finally, with a rush of relief, she saw a group of paramedics immerge from the blaze, bringing two loaded stretchers with them. Torn, she ran for the one that she knew carried the only man that she could ever love.

He had been scarred beyond recognition; ugly, blackened burns covered his body. Tears sprang from her eyes, mixing with the blood that was now flowing freely from his open blisters. Sobbing, she wrapped her arms gently around his fragile body, not wanting to let go. However, seconds later she found herself being pulled away from him by a harsh voice by her side.

"Excuse me Miss, but we need to get going," the voice said. Sam turned to find a gruff, dirty-blonde haired, brown-eyed, lightly tanned paramedic prodding her gently.

Obediently, she pulled herself away and climbed into the back of the ambulance. It was then that her thoughts began to race mercilessly. In silence, she watched as they tried desperately to save his life. Once they had arrived at the hospital, Danny was rushed into emergency surgery, and she was told to wait outside in the waiting room, after being handed a stack of paperwork. For three hours she waited, and they were the longest three hours of her life. She did her best to stay patient as she waited, as her emotions began to get the best of her. Finally, hours later, a man clad in green surgical scrubs with tied, raven hair, and heavy laden sea-green eyes walked up to her shaking form. He was the very picture of utter exhaustion. His tanned face was etched with concern.

"Yes," Sam muttered inaudibly.

"Are you Miss Manson?" he asked. Slowly, she nodded.

"Well, I thought you might like to know that we have managed to successfully stop the internal bleeding. He's awake and you may see him now," he said motioning to the third door on the left side of the hallway.

When she entered the room she was shocked at what she saw. There lay her Danny, hooked up to all sorts of monitoring machines and tubes, deathly pale, covered from head to toe in the gauze that dressed his wounds. She felt the urge to cry, but she did her best to fight it, biting back the tears that were nipping at her face as she approached his bedside.

"Danny," she whispered, holding his hand tightly, he did not stir, the monitors at his side set off in a rhythmic pattern. There was not much that she could do except, wait, so she did. For countless hours she sat there contemplating the situation.

"Danny, can you hear me," she asked for the forty – eighth time in the past four hours. He still did not stir. Over the next few days nothing changed, and Sam lost her resolve; she did not have any hope for his survival. She cursed herself for thinking this way knowing that he would never give up on her this easily, but she knew that it could not be helped. In all honesty, under normal circumstances, she would have been relieved if he did not make it through this, she would rather him die a restful, painless death, then to have to watch him suffer, but then there was the fight, the fight that they had never resolved, and she knew that she would never forgive herself if it stayed that way.

Inspectors had tried to talk to her, to get her to tell them what had happened, but she could not have told them if she wanted to, she was unsure of what really happened herself. However, one thing was for certain, it was Vlad's fault and he was going to pay for everything that he had put her through. No, she thought to herself, it's not what he would have wanted. For days, she starved off the feeling of finality, but it was beginning to seem inevitable.

Three weeks into the ordeal, Dr. Manning, Danny's primary physician told Sam that his chances for survival were a million to one. Five days after that, Danny's health took a spiraling turn for the worst. Sam was distraught; she did not want to lose him, not like this. Day in and day out the dedicated staff worked feverously to save his life, but in the end, it was not enough, there was nothing that they could do, so they stopped trying and focused more on making him comfortable through what would certainly be the last days of his life. On a Thursday morning, four and a half weeks after the accident, it was official. It was time for the final goodbye.

When she once again entered his cubicle, her mind raced. Slowly, the medical staff dwindled, allowing her to be alone with him. His consciousness had been regained, but he was quickly succumbing to the pull that he had been fighting for so long. Tears flooded her eyelids. None of this was supposed to happen. Life had been so unfair to her, they were supposed to make up for the past, marry, start a family and then grow old together; she was not supposed to be thinking about what she was going to say at his funeral.

Nevertheless, there she was, the past could not be changed no matter how much she wished that it could. So, resigned, setting herself down on the metal chair beside his bedside, she moved to hold his hand. Before Sam knew what had hit her, she was crying, again. Minutes later, her tears were interrupted by a strong hand brushing her back. As she wiped the tears from her eyes, she looked up to find the source of that sudden disturbance, and what she saw startled her. It was Danny. His bright blue eyes stared at her with longing. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry, that he forgave her for running out on him all those years ago, but his words failed him as any attempt at speech only ended in fits of hacking coughs.

Suddenly, cackling, maniacal laughter interrupted their serenity. Turning, they saw Vlad Plasmius.

"So, you survived, well I suppose I'm just going to have to fix that."

"Over my dead body, Plasmius," Sam screamed disgustedly, standing protectively over Danny.

"That can be arranged," Vlad sneered coldly.

With those words, Sam's world faded into darkness. Hours later, she awoke groggily. For several, long, drawn- out minutes, she waited for her vision to clear. As it slowly did, she found that she was on the floor in Vlad's living room. Immediately, her heart went out to Danny. Where was he? Her question was answered with a painful moan echoing down the hall. Dazed, she rose from the floor, and ran towards the voice. It leads her to Vlad's secret lab. Just as she suspected, there she found Danny. He was now unconscious; his weakened form was chained against the back wall. Not even pausing to consider the imminent danger in doing so, she ran for him. Then, she tried to loosen the chains that bound his wrists and ankles. After failing considerably, Sam let out a cry of frustration, but she was not about to give up. Using everything she had, she pounded her fists on them once again, and this time, they bucked. Several minutes later, they broke off with a loud snap. Its sound rumbled throughout the entire chamber sending chills of fear up her spine.

Gently, she lowered him to the ground. She shook him furiously, attempting to pull him from his unconscious state. Several minutes passed before she finally received a groan in response. Slowly, Danny pried his crystal blue eyes open. Sam's tear- stricken lavender eyes stared at him lovingly. Tentatively, he opened his mouth to speak, but she shushed him, gently putting her hand over his mouth.

"Shh... we need to get out of here," she cooed, "Do you think that you can stand," she asked, receiving only an incoherent muffle in reply. Carefully, she attempted to raise him to his feet. As she did this they fell unsteadily from underneath him, and he gasped in pain.

"I tried to tell you..." he muttered in a low, pain-filled voice. "Both legs have been broken."

For a moment, they sat in silence as Sam tried to gather her thoughts and think of a new plan. Finally, she knew exactly what to do. She did the only thing that she could do. Taking great care, she lifted him into her arms, as if she were a groom lifting his bride over the threshold. Briefly, she took the time to assess the situation, she looked down. Danny lay peacefully in her grasp, battered, bruised, and broken, she needed to find help fast. Determined, she ran towards the door that she had entered through.

Before they left that torture chamber however, she dropped a small explosive that she had set to go off in forty minutes. This being done, she ran as fast as her petite legs would carry her. Once they were a safe one and three fourths of a mile outside the mansion, Sam lowered Danny to the ground, before allowing herself to collapse with exhaustion beside him. Slowly, she turned to face him. Fresh cuts blossomed from his face, which was covered in dust. His dark brunette hair had lost its usual sheen; it was now little more than a disheveled mess. He stared at her, his deep cobalt eyes, hidden beneath half closed lids. The sight was enough to tear at Sam's already fragile heart strings.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a deafening explosion. Instinctively, she used her body to shield Danny from the stray wreckage, as it flew over their heads. Once the roar had died down, Sam warily lifted her head. With shock she saw before her burning timbers, the remains of Vlad's once proud estate. She breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that the possibility of surviving an explosion of that magnitude would be nothing short of miraculous. Satisfied, she turned her attention back towards Danny. His small, shallow breaths were the only thing reassuring her that he was still alive at that point.

She lifted him into her arms once again, striding blindly towards the nearby road. Startled, Sam felt him move ever so slightly in her arms. Minutes later, his eyes shot open. He moved about frantically, and Sam almost dropped him in his panic.

"Get away from me, get away from me you monster," he yelled.

Gently, Sam shook him.

"It's alright Danny, it's over, it's just me," she whispered, desperately trying to calm him.

His eyes continued to dart around their surroundings in pure terror.

Finally, Sam understood, he was not having a hallucination, this was real.

"What is it Danny," she questioned, beginning to get frantic.

"It's him," he muttered almost angrily.

"Who," Sam asked, still confused.

"Vlad," he cried before going limp in her grasp.

Fearfully, Sam followed where his gaze had been staring. Sure enough, there stood the villain himself. There was something different about him though, something that Sam could not put her finger on. He should have been dead, she knew that and it frightened her, but then she noticed something even more disquieting.

In all her years of being involved with the conflict between him and Danny she had never seen his expression filled with so much hate before. The deep maroon eyes of his ghostly form held no human emotions, only the desire to kill. It was then that she knew. Vlad Masters the man, was gone, in has place was left the macro-villain, Vlad Plasmius, who had been robbed of every ounce of humanity he had left, his morals being soon to follow.

Riddled with pain, Danny awoke and stood to face his foe. He stumbled, ignoring the blinding pain that shot from his battered legs, threatening to bring him down. Despite all this he persevered. Startled, he felt a hand grab his arm. Sharply, he turned around. It was Sam. Though her voice had failed her, she silently begged him not to fight, knowing that the outcome was not likely to be in his favor.

Danny continued to stand firm, this was his and Plasmius' fight alone, and Sam had undeservedly been dragged into it, and could have been killed, all because of Plasmius, and he was going to pay.

"You've crossed the line Plasmius," Danny yelled, stepping forward cautiously.

"I wasn't aware that there was any line to be crossed," Vlad sneered.

"It's over Plasmius," Danny bellowed back.

"That's what you think," Vlad said, grinning evilly.

"Danny, look out" Sam screamed, but it was too late.

Swiftly, Danny turned towards the sound of her concerned voice, just in time to see Plasmius' double standing behind him, holding in his hands a rather large medieval looking sword. Before Danny could react, Plasmius plunged the sword deep into his chest, twisting it harshly as he pulled it out. An earth shattering scream pierced the air coming from Danny as he was overcome with blinding pain. Sam was torn between her desire to help Danny and tear Vlad limb from limb. Within minutes Danny lost what strength he had and fell to the ground...hard.

"Now it's over," Vlad sneered confidently, calmly walking over to where Danny had fallen, intent on finishing him off.

It was with that realization that Sam was able to snatch herself from her stupor. In pure fury, she ran towards Plasmius, unarmed save her fists, and a hate for him so extreme that it nearly blocked out every last moral she had. She flung herself on him, but he caught her in mid-air, flinging her aside effortlessly, as if she were only a speck of dust, an irritant to be removed. This being done, he turned his attention to what he had been doing in the first place.

He raised the sword once again, but the blow never fell. Shaking herself awake, Sam threw herself on Vlad once again, with the force of a hurricane, knocking him flat off his feet. Rage singed through her being as she attacked Vlad with as much viciousness as her weakened body would allow her to muster. After several minutes of releasing years of blind hatred and rage Sam then remembered the crisis at hand. Speedily, she ran to where Danny had fallen.

As she ran, she heard a sickening crunch beneath her; she broke her stride, not knowing what had happened. Fearfully, she looked below her. What met her was someone that she could scarcely recognize as human. His face was unnaturally pale; eyes sealed tightly, dirt-filled raven colored hair hung on his forehead. Blood ran from his chest, staining his plain white t-shirt. However unrecognizable he may have been, Sam immediately knew who it was, it was Danny. Panicked, Sam kneeled to the ground, reached for his neck, and searched for the pulse that she so desperately needed to feel. It was there, but it was faint.

"Danny... come on, get up, he's gone," Sam pleaded. He groaned in response, giving Sam at least some hope. With joy, she saw his eyes slowly open. Gently, she stroked his soiled hair.

"I'm going to get you out of here," she whispered, lifting him into her arms.

A cry of pain, immerged from his throat, but did not escape his cracked lips. Running as quickly as she dared Sam found herself on the side of the old abandoned road that she had originally been looking for. Gently, she lowered Danny to the ground, she had to think. Minutes passed, marked only by the rapid repetition of Danny's pain-filled breaths.

Finally, Sam heard the distant rumble of an approaching vehicle. She looked up to find, a black Chevrolet Silverado speeding towards them in the darkness. Sam rose quickly, and darted into the road, waving her arms in a desperate attempt to get the driver's attention. The truck lurched to a screeching halt, a mere ten feet before it would have hit Sam. Its driver climbed out of the truck and ran over to Sam. He was a middle- aged man, he stood at a towering six foot five, his pale complexion offsetting his dark olive turtleneck, and the blue jeans that covered his lower half were torn in odd places. Shaggy brunette hair was under his blue trucker hat.

"Are you out of your mind," he reeled, storming towards her. "You're going to get yourself killed standing in the middle of a road like that. What's wrong with you," he asked, concerned.

"It's not me, it's my friend, he's been attacked," she replied, out of breath, leading him to where Danny had been laid.

"What have you two been doing," the man asked, but Sam could not answer him, as she was focusing all her attention on Danny. "Alright, come with me" he muttered, still staring at Danny, shocked.

He seemed to be weakening. It was only a matter of time before it was going to be too late to save him.

"I don't mean to be rude, but we need to go," Sam echoed softly, finding her voice long enough to break him out of his daze.

"Right," the man uttered, climbing into the front of truck after helping Sam get Danny in the back.

"Name's Joe, by the way," Joe commented, trying to break the silence.

"Sam and this Danny," she grunted lowly, pointing to his still form in the back of the truck.

"So Sam, do you mind telling me what you and your little friend here where doing on the side of the road at this time of night?"

"It's a long, personal story," Sam explained.

"We have the time," Joe replied flippantly, staring at the green fluorescent clock that was on the dashboard.

Sam sighed, he had her. So for forty five minutes, Sam told Joe the whole story, trying to stay as impersonal as possible, and by the time she was finished, Joe had found a hospital. He was about to leave Sam at the front of the hospital when he realized that in the state she was in it was probably better if he went with her, so he walked her to the front information booth as she held Danny firmly in her arms. As calmly as she possibly could, Sam explained what had happened. Danny was immediately rushed into the trauma ward, Sam was told to wait outside with Joe still following in toe.

Seconds turned to minutes; minutes turned to hours as Sam filled out all the paper work and still nothing. Finally, a young dark brunette haired, man dressed in a white lab coat and black slacks with dark brown eyes and tanned skin approached them.

"Are you the individuals inquiring about Danny Fenton," he asked. Rising, Sam nodded and Joe simply stood at her side.