Author's Notes: I started writing this after "Reign Storm" and before "Ultimate Evil". Rather than change what I've written, I'm going to leave it sandwiched somewhere in between.

Additionally, I know the topics and villian of the piece have been tackled in plenty of other fanfics. Forgive me if you feel like I'm stepping on toes. I actually only started this piece as a writing exercise to get me out of a writer's block funk on an original piece of fiction I was working on. I was bugged to post (and share) what little I've got, so here is the first bit. Chapter 2 will come along either later tonight or tomorrow.

Disclaimer - Dis all be Butch's stuff, except for the strange plot idea which I got after watching waaaaay too manyre-runs of "Bitter Reuinons". ) There are NO original characters in this piece. There are NO pairings in this piece. This is good, ole' fashioned, as the show/movies tell it, Danny Phantom story telling. IMHO, Butch's baby is too good to ruin by adding things he hasn't added yet.
Also, I'm trying to keep my writing style in the style, and spirit (pun not intended), of the show. Please keep that in mind as you read my own little homage to Butch's grand creation.

Comments welcome!

Catadmin

Danny Phantom – "Do Overs"

Two Weeks Ago –

"My turn. My turn!" yelled the six year old child running across the park after a group of kids carrying a ball.

He sat above them quietly, floating invisibly upon a cushion of nothingness at tree-top height. He had no desire to disrupt the children's play. Only to watch it and attempt to fathom its mysteries from a view skewed by years of harsh experience. He hated failure, had tasted it lately nearly as often as he had tasted the thrill of success. It was the simplest mistakes that haunted his sleep. The ones he should have been able to avoid. He was too smart to have underestimated his enemy.

Except the enemy had a way of surprising him on occasion. Had, at least twice, gotten the upper hand by preying on his own predictable weaknesses. There had to be a better way to achieve his goals without sucumbing to those temptations.

A shriek of pure joy echoed up from the playground below as the mass of children ran back the other way, chasing the maroon sphere which was the coveted prize. Some children chased others, trying to tag and not be tagged in return. Others simply threw themselves at the bouncing ball, certain they could fetch it before anyone else could. One enterprising youth didn't just chase the ball, he maneuvered around the side in a wide arc that placed him squarely in front of it long enough for him to kick it in the other direction.

Ah. Clever move. The watching presence knew that trick already. It was one he had long given up in favor of more complicated strategies. Still, sometimes the best moves could be the simplest. The maneuver had displayed both patience and foresight, something he thought he was good at. And yet, twice he had made the mistake of being too eager, impatient even, revealing his plans before he was prepared for the consequences. Humiliating defeat had been handed to him, instead of victory. A loss of control that he regretted, even to this day and which now he wished he could have avoided, even if he did have a better understanding of the enemy's capabilities.

He sighed heavily, watching the twisting mass of children dance around, playing their game as if there were no worries in the world. Yes, he was on top. Two out of four battles had gone his way. But two out of four was not nearly as good as four out of four and there was the potential, the slim possibility, that as cleverly as he plotted the next encounter, the enemy would find a way to hand him defeat yet again.

Another shriek, this one less pleased than the last. He pointed his attention in the direction of the high-pitched sobs, only to see the first girl on the ground, claw marks on her arm and a small tabby, its back arched and fur spiked, spitting mad at her. Her cries drew the attention of most of the crowd, making the youth angling for the ball miss it with his kick. The boy went down in the dust with a thud. Someone else snatched it away from him and ran for the imaginary goal they had been playing towards. As the children milled around, a few running for parental authority to solve the girl's cries of pain, the youth climbed to his feet. "Do over!" the boy shouted. "That wasn't fair, Aubrey! I want a do over!"

Do over. Ah, if life were only that simple, where everything could be done over if you did it wrong the first time, the invisible presence thought. He could definitely benefit from a do over if he could do it over and still remember what had happened the first time around. If he had a do over, he wouldn't be so cocky this time, wouldn't reveal himself so soon. Patience was the key.

The children had gathered into a mass, the youth and this Aubrey child at the center each yelling at the top of their lungs. "Do over!" "Will not. It was fair!" "No one was paying attention!" "So what? Not my fault." "Stupid cat. I wish..."

"Children. Children, that is enough!" shouted one of the parents.

The presence blinked in sudden comprehension. Do over, the words echoed in his head. And why not. After all, where there was a will, there was a way.

Perhaps there were lessons that could be learned on the playground for someone his age.

He smiled grandly, his eyes glowing bright with delight. "Oh, yes. That will work perfectly. Time, I think, for a complete 'do over'." He stretched out his legs and soared up into the sky, glancing down at the ruckus below him and spotting the tabby who had caused the incident sitting alone under a tree washing its paws. "And in that spirit, maybe I'll actually take my foe's advice, too."

"I do believe it's time for me to get a cat."

---------------------------------------------

The Night Before –

I am not going to scream, she thought to herself.

I am not going to scream. I am not going to scream. I am not going to scream.

The resolution gave her little comfort. She was already gasping for air, leaving little tendrils of steam in her wake as she sprinted down the empty street towards the park. The chill of the evening constricted her chest, making breathing difficult. She had a moment to consider the wisdom of taking up track - given all the running she was forced to do this last year, track might actually be a benefit - before dismissing the random thought. The last thing she wanted was to be labeled a jock. Or worse, for someone to question why a goth chick would get into sports. Besides, track practice would cut into her other extra-circular activities.

Like running for her life.

Fourteen year old Samantha Manson, Sam to her friends, grabbed the top of the park's wrought iron fence with one hand and used it as a pivot point to vault over the top. She felt her plaid skirt snag on one of the points, heard it tear as her feet hit the ground on the other side. Bad landing. Her left ankle twisted underneath her, causing her to stumble. Pain flared up her leg. She barely managed to stay upright. The eager pants of her pursuer echoed through the empty night, getting closer with every second.

Run, you idiot. Before it catches you!

So, she ran, stiletto sharp knives of pain coursing up her leg every time she stepped on the weakened ankle. Her speed was considerably lessened now, due to the unanticipated injury. Her pursuer was getting closer. She could almost smell the stench of dead fish which emanated from it. She wanted to curse. She really wanted to scream. This wasn't the plan. She wasn't supposed to be the bait.

And yet, here she was, running from the enemy, all alone and defenseless because they had all expected it to be somewhere else.

Danny, where are you?

No one replied to the thought. She could have yelled it aloud and still not gotten a reply. Danny and Tucker were busy lying in wait for this thing in a building on the other side of the park. The trap should have worked. That it hadn't was evident by the fact that her pursuer had shown up tonight at her favorite bookstore during a reading by one of her favorite, and appropriately obscure, horror writers. Strangely enough, it had been the author who had been the most terrified. His audience, a collection of goths, wanna-be occultists and neo-vampire enthusiasts had simply sat there, commenting on the brilliance of his vision in staging a ghost visitation. That is, until the ghost in question started tearing the place apart.

Her foot caught on the exposed root of a tree and her ankle gave way under a new onslaught of pain. Sam slammed against the cold ground, what little air she had in her lungs expelled from the force of her fall. She lay gasping on the ground, desperately trying to banish the pain away into a small corner of her brain while gulping in as much air as she could. I am not going to scream…

A snarl, deep and vicious, sounded behind her. Hot, steamy breath cascaded across her back. Green saliva dripped on the ground beside her, sizzling as it hit and dissolved the grass, leaving nothing but acid-scarred patches of dirt in its wake. Sam rolled over on her side, heart pounding in terror as she realized she was caught. Red eyes, as bright as little l.e.d.s, shined brilliantly in the darkness. Glowing fangs were bared close to her shoulder and she could hear claws ripping into the turf around her. A loud growl rang through the night as the giant cat-like creature sniffed at her, then snapped at her.

Her black bangs were blown back by the force of its rotten-fish smell breath. This thing definitely looked hungry.

Her options were limited. She couldn't run. There was nothing within reaching distance that she could use as a weapon, even if she could find a weapon that could hurt a creature who could go intangible at will. She couldn't call Danny or Tucker because her cell phone had been trashed in the bookstore in the initial chaos of the monstrous ghost's rampage. She had two options left. Three, if one counted being eaten. Faint or scream.

Sam was no fluffy socialite to faint at the slightest hint of trouble. Mansons were made of sterner stuff. She chose to ignore her initial resolution. She decided to scream.

"HELP!"

They were just across the park. Sounds tended to echo around this area. There was a chance Danny and Tucker would hear her. Wasn't there?

The ghost chuckled. Or snarled. It certainly sounded the same. The ghost padded forward, lifting a paw with scimitar shaped claws extended, snapping its jaws together in anticipation. Sam scooted back, only to smack into the tree whose traitorous root had tripped her. Saliva dripped again from the creature's mouth, landing on said root and eating into it. The poor defenseless root would never trip anyone again. Her heart went out to the tree as the ghost stalked closer. She wondered if ectoplasmic acid was bio-degradable or a persistent environmental toxin. If this tree suffered permanent damage because of her, she would never forgive herself.

The ghost stalked closer, its eyes shining in anticipation. It rested its outstretched paw on side the tree and hovered over her.

Then again, if the ghost cat ate her, she would never forgive herself either. Stupid ankle. Maybe taking up track wouldn't be such a bad idea. The creature sniffed at her again, then opened its mouth wide as it leaned down. Sam crossed her arms over her head protectively, knowing the gesture wouldn't help, but unable to do anything else. This was it. Time to bid farewell to life as she knew it.

Would she become a ghost if she died?

"Leave her alone!"

She never had time to ponder the answer to her question. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a bolt of bright green light slam into the side of her assailant. The cat ghost was knocked over and past her by the blast and yipped in pain as it fell on the ground. It managed to get back to its feet fairly quickly, though, and turned towards the boy who had attacked it.

Sam sighed in relief. To the other side of her stood, or rather floated, a fourteen year old boy in a black jumpsuit with green eyes and white hair. The expression on his face was one of anger and determination. He barely spared her a glance other than to verify she was in one piece, but she didn't complain. She'd rather he take down the cat ghost first anyway.

The cat snarled and lunged at the floating boy, claws extended. The boy dodged to the side, going intangible so the claws passed harmlessly through him. "So you want to play. Fine. Let's play," the boy commented grimly. He raised a hand, glowing green with ectoplasmic energy and shot at the cat's backside. The cat was fast. The blast almost missed it, only singed the cat's tail instead of hitting it solidly like the boy had intended.

"Sam, get out of there!" a voice came from the bushes twenty feet away from the ensuing battle.

Sam turned to the voice, seeing a disembodied head with glasses and a red beret poking out of the bushes. "Love to, Tucker, but I twisted my ankle. I can't get up."

Tucker Foley, one of Sam's two absolute best friends in the world, grimaced. "Hang on. I'll be right there. Danny," he shouted to the floating boy, Sam's other best friend, as the boy dodged another cat attack. "Keep that thing busy. I've got to help Sam."

"What would you like me to do, Tucker? Invite it to dance?" Danny Phantom, the self-appointed guardian of Amity Park , asked sarcastically as the cat opened its mouth and spit acid saliva at him. He dodged most of the spit, but yelped as some of it landed on his shoulder and ate through his jumpsuit. "Okay, that's just gross. And you messed up my favorite jumpsuit! You are so going down, Cat!" He blasted the cat, finally hitting it full on a second time, further into the park.

Sam closed her eyes and sighed. She could hear the stress layered thickly through her friend's voice and felt a twinge guilty for being partially responsible. Still, it wasn't like she had asked the ghost cat to show up in the wrong place. Danny could be such a dimwit sometimes.

A rustle of vegetation caused her to open her eyes and look up. Tucker knelt beside her, picking prickly burrs out of his shirt. "You would think someone would take some time to weed this place. It is supposed to be a public park after all." He grinned down at Sam to show he wasn't deliberately being callous. "You asked for help?"

She blinked. "You heard that?"

"We both did. We were heading back across the park when you yelled." He put her arm across his shoulder and carefully lifted her back to her feet.

"Gave up on the trap then?"

Tucker snorted as he adjusted her weight against him. She kept her injured foot raised in the air, waiting patiently as he got comfortable. When he nodded, she hopped forward with him, letting him half-carry her away from the site of her fall. "Nope," he replied. "We actually caught the cat ghost. As far as I know it's still in the Fenton Thermos."

Sam looked up in surprise. "You caught it? That means…"

"There's more than one, apparently. Which explains why there were so many sightings the past couple of days in so many different places" Tucker frowned in the direction of the on-going ghost battle. "The first one was a lot easier to catch than this one is, though."

Danny yelped again. He was on the ground with the cat ghost pinning him tightly down, saliva dripping onto his arms and legs. Sam bit her lower lip in frustration. She wanted to help. She should be able to help. A exchanged glance with Tucker reflected the same concern and frustration in his eyes. If only they could do something other than watch their best friend fight the good fight and get hurt in the process. They didn't say the words aloud, though. They didn't need to. Both understood how the other felt.

Tucker helped Sam over to an out-of-the-way picnic table where she stretched out her left leg on the bench. It was definitely swelling, she could tell from the way her boot fit around it. She reached over to undo her laces, but Tucker caught her hands. "Better let it be, Sam. The boot can contain the swelling until we get you home where you can put ice on it. Take it off now and it'll only get worse. "

"If I don't take it off now, I may have to cut my boot off!" she hissed angrily, and instantly regretted the snap in her voice.

Tucker shrugged nonchalantly, refusing to take offense. "You're rich, remember? You can afford another pair of boots."

"'Scuse me. Ultra recyclo-vegatarian, remember?" she shot back. "I don't eat things with a face and I don't buy things made out of their hides, either. Do you know how hard it is to find boots made out of recycled nylon carpet? It took me months to get these boots and if I try to buy another pair, my mom will use it as an excuse to change my wardrobe by purchasing heels for me." Sam shuddered at the awful thought. Her mother was always trying to get her to dress like a lady.

"You're forgetting one thing. Danny's half ghost."

Tucker looked so proud of his pronouncement that Sam looked up at him in confusion. "Uh, Tucker, I already knew that."

Tucker blinked, then shook his finger at her. "You're missing the point, Sam. As a half ghost, he has the ability to phase through objects or make objects intangible."

"So?"

"So, he can phase your boot right off your foot without having to damage it."

Sam flushed in embarrassment. "Oh. Right." She knew that. Really. Stupid ankle and stupid fall. Her foot was throbbing so badly, it was hard to think of anything else right now.

A familiar flash lit up the park behind her. She turned to look over her shoulder and saw Danny pointing a regular sized thermos at the cat ghost. Bluish-white light cascaded out of it, surrounding the cat, absorbing the cat and pulling the cat inside. How many ghosts can you fit inside a thermos?, she asked herself as she watched the ghost boy put the cap back on.

"Finally." Tucker sounded as relieved as she felt.

Danny floated over to them, his jumpsuit scorched and torn. There were red weals on his arms and legs where the acid at burned through. Sam winced at the same time Tucker did. Danny looked in worse shape then she felt. He landed beside the table, a circle of white light surrounding his midriff, then splitting into two. One shot up over his torso, arms and head, while the other shot down his legs. In their wake, they left a very scruffy fourteen year old, black haired, blue eyed boy, one Danny Fenton, with a torn tee-shirt and jeans who flopped down on the ground and starred up at the sky.

"Done now," he said. "Wake me up when summer vacation starts."

His voice sounded so normal when he was in his human form. Unlike the deeper sounding, staircase-echo voice he had when he was Danny Phantom. Sometimes Sam could hardly believe the ghost and the boy were the same person, despite the fact that they looked so much alike.

Well, except for the whole hair color and eye color and intangible thing, that is. Danny Phantom belonged to her. Her and Tucker. No one else would ever know the secrets she kept locked behind her teeth. Not even Paulina, the shallow, popular bubble-head that Danny, for reasons unknown to anyone, had a huge crush on.

All mine.

She smiled, a crooked smile, at the thought.

"What are you grinnin' at?" Tucker asked her.

Danny titled his head and looked up questioningly at the two sitting on the picnic table.

"Uh, I was just thinking that – that it might be nice to get a cat as a pet." She waved a hand in the air to distract them, and herself, from what she had really been thinking. "You know, because they are so independent minded, don't require a lot of attention…"

"And spit acid when they're mad?" Danny finished for her. He let his head drop back on the grass. "Don't even joke about that, Sam! After tonight, I officially hate cats."

"What I hate," she commented, pointing at her watch, "Is getting grounded for missing curfew. It's nine fifty and I don't think I can hobble all the way home on this ankle."

Danny jumped to his feet like he had been electrified. "Oh, man! I didn't realize it was that late!"

Tucker stood and dusted off his pants. "Me either. My PDA alarm didn't even go off at nine thirty like it's supposed to! I'd better get a move on. See you guys tomorrow?"

"Ankle permitting." Sam slid her leg off the bench and tried, and failed, to stand on it. Fortunately, Danny was there to catch her.

"Maybe I'd better fly you home."

"You'll be late. Your dad will be furious." Despite being grateful for the offer, her ankle felt like a lead balloon and definitely wouldn't hold her weight, she felt the need to remind him of the consequences.

Danny gave a half-hearted laugh. "I'm getting used to being grounded. Besides, you don't look like you can walk right now. Going ghost!"

Another circle of light appeared around him and he switched from Danny Fenton to Danny Phantom without hesitation. He put his right arm around her waist and lifted her left arm around his neck before shooting up with her into the evening sky. They both waved goodnight to Tucker's retreating form before Danny turned and headed towards her house.

Strangely enough, her foot hurt just as badly flying in the air as it did when she tried to walk on it. She tried to think of something else, anything else, to get her mind off the pressure. Her only consolation at the moment was that the flight, as opposed to the walk, home would be short.

"You okay, Sam?" The concern in his voice was reflected in his green eyes.

She tried not to squirm. Mansons were made of sterner stuff than this. A little hurt like this would not make her cry. Not when one of her two best friends had wounds that made her twisted ankle look as pitiful as a broken fingernail. She could see his pain in the set of his face, but he hadn't even complained. "I'm fine."

He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it as if he had changed his mind.

"Really, Danny. I'm fine."

"Where did the other cat come from?" He changed the subject. "And why was it chasing you?"

She focused her thoughts away from her ankle and gave a brief description of what happened at the bookstore. "I don't know why it showed up there. I tricked it into chasing me instead of any of the others," she finished. "I thought if I could lead it over to you, we could still trap it. Definitely did not expect it to be so fast, though."

"Sam," he sighed, "I wish you wouldn't do that. You know how dangerous ghosts can be."

"So I just should have let it chase someone else instead? And possibly hurt them?"

"Yes! I mean, no. I mean…" Confused, he gave up. "Darnit, Sam, if you or Tucker got seriously hurt in one of these fights, I'd never forgive myself."

Sam shook her head. "Better one of us, who at least knows and accepts the dangers, than some innocent bystander. Don't forget, I did achieve my goal. I led the ghost right to you."

Arriving at Sam's house, Danny turned intangible, phasing both of them through Sam's closed window, then solidified and let her gently down on her bed. "Without so much as a scratch, of course, which is why your ankle looks like a grapefruit right now," he chided.

Sam made a face at him. "It's just twisted. Now if you could get me some ice from downstairs and take my boot off, I'll be fine."

It was ten after ten before Danny finished getting Sam settled to his satisfaction. The overwhelming guilt he felt because of her injury had caused him to hover over her, literally speaking, until she had finally yelled at him to go home and leave her alone. He hated it when Sam yelled at him, but she had a point. He was a ghost, not a doctor, and there was little he could do to fix her ankle. Leaving her room, he wearily took to the sky. Thankfully, the flight home occurred without incident. No additional ghosts drew the attention of his eyes or his ghost sense.

Instead of walking through the front door, where he might encounter angry parents, he flew directly to his room, changing back into his Fenton half. He'd have to come up with an excuse before breakfast as to how he slipped past his parents who were no doubt waiting in the living room for him to come home. Still, he wasn't worried about them so much as he was worried about the itchy, sore spots dotting his arms and legs which didn't go away, and actually hurt worse, when he changed from ghost back to human.

He put the Fenton thermos carefully on his desk, he could always dump the ghost cats back into the ghost zone later, and peeked out of the door to make sure no one was watching. Sneaking out of his room, he ran down the hall to take a quick shower. Maybe he could wash off the acid. Hopefully, he could get rid of the damage before Jazz or his parents saw it. There was no telling how they might react if they knew he was hurt like this.

Then again, knowing Mom and Dad, they would automatically assume, and correctly for once, that a ghost had done this. I'd never be able to leave the house unescorted again. Not until they had convinced themselves they had caught the spectral culprit.

Danny sighed heavily as he undressed. Living a secret double-life was supposed to be exciting, according to the comic books. His life, on the other hand, was a badly performed juggling act. Not only did he have to constantly fight ghosts who were constantly trying to gain power or, strangely enough, conquer the human world, but he had to keep his ghost-half secret from his parents, a couple of over-obsessive ghost hunters who would gladly capture and experiment on any ghost in reach if given the proper opportunity. He didn't dare tell them he was half-ghost. As much as he wanted to believe they would love him and accept him in spite of the ghost issue, a part of him was terrified he might end up on the wrong end of one of his father's ghost probes.

"Danny? Danny, are you up here?"

His sister's voice, coming from the hallway. At least it wasn't his mom. "Taking a shower, Jazz."

"Oh," she paused for a moment, then added, "Okay. I'll let Mom and Dad know you've…been upstairs studying."

Danny turned his head towards the bathroom door. Upstairs studying? Jazz knew he had gone out with Tucker earlier, so why would she lie to Mom and Dad about it? She had gotten so cryptic and strange the past few months. Almost as if she had to come up with excuses for his behavior to satisfy her own bizarre cravings for family normalcy. Jazz is not my problem right now. The acid is. Get it off first, then worry about everything else.

The shower's hot water temporarily soothed the weals, but the addition of soap nearly made him shriek in agony. Fortunately, he was able to keep from screaming. Unfortunately, he bit through his lower lip to keep from screaming and was now bleeding from his mouth. Drying himself was definitely not a fun exercise. The weals had started to seep, a bright green puss dripping out of their edges. And now they were starting to sting in a very painful way.

"So much for the towel." He grimaced at the green stains, knowing he could never slip the towel in the laundry without his mother noticing. He put a robe on and wrapped the towel up into a bundle with his clothes. When he was satisfied no one would see him, Danny ran back to his room, shut the door and shoved the dirty bundle in the back of his closet. He carefully pulled on his pajamas, turned off his light, and slipped under the bedcovers.

Despite the throbbing pain in his arms and legs, the exhausted teenage boy was sound asleep the instant his head touched his pillow.

Outside Danny Fenton's window, two bright red circles of light glowed momentarily. If he had been awake, he would have recognized them as a pair of eyes, floating in the air without a head or body attached. As it was, though, Danny was too far gone into sleep to see the eyes, or notice the sudden dip in temperature in his room.

A small wisp of chilled breath escaped the sleeping boy's mouth as an invisible presence slipped through the wall of his room. The presence froze for a moment, waiting for a reaction. When there was none, the presence moved over to the desk, picked up the Fenton thermos and phased it halfway through the window before removing the cap and releasing the two ghost cats inside of it. "Home," it commanded quitely.

The two large cat spirits hissed in response, turned and launched themselves towards the ground. As their paws hit the streets, they became transparent, unnoticable by the naked human eye, and loped off into the distance. The presence recapped the thermos and made sure to replace it in the exact spot the boy had left it.

Danny groaned in his sleep, rolling to his side. Another whisp of chilled breath escaped his mouth and he still did not awaken.

The presence floated over to the boy's side and ruffled his black hair with an invisible hand. "Sleep well, Little Badger," a deep male voice whispered softly, almost affectionately. "You're going to need your rest for what's ahead."