Awakening
Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom, but I do own Demi and the other unfamiliar characters.
A/N: set in Demi's POV
Chapter One
I looked around at the destruction of Amity Park, and I could swear I was the only one walking around. I had the sense that I was the only survivor of a war or, most likely, a complete destruction and genocide. My hands gripped my upper arms, and I stumbled as I walked. It suddenly occurred to me that I had been seriously injured, even though I didn't feel any pain, and it took all the strength I had to walk.
I reached Casper High and pushed my way into the principal's office, which was as deserted as the rest of the town. At first I thought I would be safe here, but as soon as I felt a wisp of air exit my mouth, realized that it was all a lie.
I walked out of the principal's office and into the gym, when another small wisp of air escaped my mouth. I turned toward the double doors to see a ghost with flaming white hair and in a black and white caped jumpsuit. His eyes glowed red, and something about his presence really put me off.
"Well, well, well," he said. "Demetria Fenton. I never knew he had a daughter, but I always figured that if he did, she'd be pretty, but naive and weak." He held his hands up, and in his hands were green energy balls, from which emanated numerous green bolts. "No match for me," he added in a darker voice, and he fired the energy balls at me.
DFDF
My eyes snapped open, and I was shuddering almost uncontrollably. My sheets were cold and damp, like my pajamas. I knew I didn't wet myself, so it must've been from a horrible cold sweat. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, reaching for my dream journal and writing down everything that I'd just seen under the light of the reading lamp.
It was the same dream I've been having for eight nights and counting, though what the ghost said sometimes changed, it was always a variation on the same thing. I was weak and naive, and every now and again he slipped in a complement for my looks or witty comments from some scene before the dream took place, which only seemed to unnerve me more. I had no idea what happened before the dream, but I knew at the end that I died, unless there was some twist that I was unaware of.
"Oh, I heard you scream," Dad said as he walked into the room, interrupting my thoughts. "Are you okay?" I nodded, and he sat on the bed next to me.
"I had the dream again," I whispered. "Eighth night yet."
"Maybe you should see a therapist."
"Maybe it's a half-ghost thing, or quarter-ghost thing, or whatever I am."
"I don't have dreams like this."
"So your conclusion is that I'm crazy?"
"Demetria Fenton, you are not crazy. I just think you need to be checked out. Soemthing's wrong, and your mind is translating it in the form of a ghost attacking you."
"You fight ghosts all the time. Why is something like me being attacked beyond you?"
Dad sighed and bowed his head. "I fight ghosts all the time so you don't have to," he said. "A lot of the ghosts are dangerous, and I don't want you to get hurt." I leaned into him, and he wrapped an arm around me. "I love you, baby girl."
"I know, Dad."
"You get some more sleep, and we'll talk about this in the morning, okay?" I nodded, and he let go of me and walked toward the door. He looked over his shoulder, smiled, and said, "Sleep tight."
"I will," I replied, smiling back. He shut the door behind him, and I gave my night's entry a once-over before rereading the entries from the previous seven nights. It probably wasn't the best piece of literature if I wanted a good night's rest for school the next day, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted to see if there was anything I missed when I reflected on the dreams earlier.
Finally, after a fruitless search for patterns, I closed the notebook, set it on the nightstand, and clicked the reading lamp off. I slipped back under the covers and closed my eyes, waiting for sleep.
