sldfkhsdj okay I am posting this now because I can't hold it in any longer. This is going to be a chaptered fic. The rest of the story is fully planned out and will actually have resolution so, wow, apparently there's a first time for everything! Please don't ask for updates; they will come when they come, I don't have a magic fanfic wand. Although I do have a series of drabbles detailing the original story line. Should I post those in Turning Pages or in a final chapter here? Something to think about...

As for pertinent information: this is Alternate Universe in that absolutely nobody knows Danny's secret, the ghosts are probably a little more malevolent than in the show, and Sam is blind. Timeline begins just after the accident.

Chapter One: Stronghold

Lancer paused for a just a second, registering the change in temperature. Not drastic, just a few degrees, but the shift was definitely noticeable if you were looking for it. And he was, had been humming with tension all morning as he waited for the first sign that it was becoming colder.

So had the rest of the students in his class, apparently, because even though he was careful not to show any change in his expression as he continued to write on the chalkboard, he knew they had noticed it as well. He could hear the moment when everyone froze in their places and there wasn't a sound in the room, everyone petrified as they understood what this might mean. There was a long moment where the white chalk clicking as he continued to put his outline up on the board was the only noise.

Then everyone started whispering frantically to their neighbors, partly in panic, partly with reassurance, partly trying to make sure that they weren't imagining things in all of the craziness that had been their day.

There was no way he could stop them, so Lancer didn't even try. But he did continue lecturing, hoping to be a soothing voice that any students listening to him could use as an anchor as they clutched the sides of their desks with white knuckles.

Maybe the heater had just conked out. Maybe someone had opened up window one of the windows just a crack. But it was clear from the intense discussions behind him that no one believed that was the case. He didn't either, to be quite honest.

He just didn't like thinking about the alternative.

But like it or not, he was the adult in the room. He was in charge of the safety of everyone here. And if the temperature was dropping… if that meant that it was going to happen again… he needed to be ready… to prepare somehow…

If only he knew what in The Good Earth he could do. It wasn't like he was an expert in dealing with threats in a classroom; he was merely a vice principal and English teacher in a small community so ordinary and well connected that would most likely never have to deal with any emotionally disturbed gun wielders in a second Columbine. Casper High had never gone through more than a tornado or fire drill in all earnestness. His only knowledge of emergencies of this kind was purely academic. And what could that do against an actual threat to the twenty children under his care?

Not that he knew what the threat was, either. Not really. That would make this easier. Knowing what they were up against. Knowing that they were actually and truly up against something.

Something had shown up earlier. That could not be disputed no matter how much he wanted to disbelieve what he had seen. His senses had not lied to him. He had to credit his own memories and the memories of the class now worried that history was about to repeat itself.

So the thing that had appeared in his classroom earlier, that flickering form of sickly oozing green and glowing red eyes—stuff straight out of the nightmares he'd tried to never have by avoiding every horror movie and Poe story he could get away with not reading—might be coming back. And this time it might do more than stare at them, upturn the closest desk, and disappear.

But if it had been real, then what could he possibly do against such a creature? A figment of imagination that could dent walls? A monster or a ghost or whatever it was. It wasn't like there was an instruction manual for encounters of this kind. Not like the fire extinguisher would probably do anything to it but that was he had at his disposal. And since it could appear and disappear at will, evacuating the building wouldn't help their situation any.

If it was coming, though, and if this was the only warning that they would get, he needed to act on it. If the timeline held up from the first incident, there would be another minute or two of steadily decreasing temperatures before it showed up. He had to keep them calm. Together. Safe. Somehow.

Lancer realized then that his stick of chalk was inactive and he had been staring blankly at the board for a minute while the class watching him in concern. Clearing his throat, he turned back around to his students and asked for Mr. Baxter to run to tell the principal of what was occurring. Perhaps she would have some plan of action laid out since the reports of panic and chaos had flooded her officer a few hours before, despite the lack of concrete evidence that something had actually been awry.

Then he gave up the last pretense that class would continue on as usual in favor of unhooking the nearest fire extinguisher from the wall and examining the correct procedure when using it. Not that he could really follow a correct procedure when he wasn't even going to use it against a fire, but he might as well make sure it was effective. Or as effective as it could possibly be.

His class soon realized what was happening and abandoned their books in favor of curling up in their seats or calling their parents or forming small huddles around the room. Thankfully no one was quite oblivious enough to think that this was a get-out-of-class-free card and they had the right to start wandering the halls. But given the looks on their faces when he glanced up, none of them wanted to be in the halls alone. This was their best chance if something was going to show up. All together with a somewhat armed teacher and help possibly on the way. And in a few minutes, the threat might even have passed them by. Only time would tell so they were free to pass it as best they could control their nerves.

Miss Sanchez was pale as she sat in the center of a circle of clinging teenage girls trying not to yell at any untoward noise as if the lights had just been shut off. Miss Grey looked as if she was about to twist the straps of her backpack into shreds.

Across the room, the football players tapped their pencils on the desktops and bounced one foot and then the other as they shared furtive glances and waited for Mr. Baxter to return from his errand.

And right in the front row, Mr. Foley sat on the floor next to Ms. Manson's desk, holding her hand to anchor her somehow to this world of chaotic sounds of which she could see nothing. Her lips were pressed together, but she looked as if she did not need any extra assistance, thank All Creatures Great and Small, because he simply couldn't afford to give it if he was going to need to protect everyone here. But she was in good enough hands for now. Tucker was a smart enough kid to know not to run off and do anything foolish at such a juncture. And he wasn't complaining about the death grip his friend kept on his arm.

Lancer flipped over the instruction packet and flicked his eyes across the page looking for pertinent information when the blond football player came back with the news that two other teachers had reported a similar drop in temperature, the janitor was checking to make sure that it wasn't just something wrong with the furnace, and they were all to continue on as Lancer thought best.

Looking between pockets of scared students and his meager weaponry, he knew his time was growing short. The temperature was dropping even further and if something was going to happen, if this nightmare really was going to materialize, it was going to do so soon.

"Alright, listen up, people!" he said, taking in every pair of eyes that shot up toward him. "We're going to stay here and we're going to stay calm. Everyone move to the back of the room and act as if this were a severe weather drill. You can bring your phones, but leave everything else at your desks." The class began to murmur but he was not done speaking. "I'll be up here with the fire extinguisher. If something's going to show up, it will be in the next few minutes. If not, then the janitor just needs to hurry up fixing the heater and we'll get back to business as normal. Either way, this will all be over soon. I just need you all to keep calm and do as I say and we will figure this out, okay?"

Heads nodded and then people began to move toward the far wall, furthest away from the windows. Miss Manson was one of the last to move, considering her slower pace, and given a little bit wider of a berth as the class migrated, led by the arm by Mr. Foley. They finished the short trip and took their places wedged in the corner of the room.

Lancer lugged up the red canister to one of the last rows of chairs, close enough to his students that he would be protecting anything that came at them and far enough away that he might still fend off an attack before it got to them.

He took a deep breath and steadied himself. He was well aware of the tension running high, of the conversations in hushed voices. Of Miss Manson sightlessly clutching onto her friend's arm like it was the only thing keeping her together and the way he held her hand confirmed the sentiment. How the boy whispered that it would be okay and that everything would turn out fine but she shook her head and how he thought he took her side of the argument, given that he was about to fight an apparition with a fire extinguisher.

He heard how the students comforted each other with soft noises, words that probably wouldn't make sense if they were all in their right minds, if they weren't waiting for an impossible creature to come kill them.

Others tried to keep the topic of conversation as normal as possible. Some girls talking about a party they were planning… the football team complaining about how hard practices had been this week… the band members discussing the merits of this year's choice of performance pieces…

"Think of something else, Sam. Just… anything else… it will help," Tucker encouraged from the end of the huddled group.

"Okay," Sam whispered shakily, fisting his shirt in her hands. "When can Danny come back to school?"

"Mrs. F said the doctors were going to keep him overnight for observation, but it sounded like he would be okay to come home after that. I don't think anyone knows what really happened, but I don't think he's going to grow two heads or anything, so that's good," he chuckled.

Lancer pulled his attention back to planning his line of defence as the temperature continued to plummet until he could see his breath. It was his job to make sure that when Mr. Fenton did come home from the hospital, he would still have a homeroom class to come back to.