AN: Hi, Psycho-eyes-ON, again. Here's chapter 1 of Pesadillas. I hope you enjoy it, if not please feel free to give me any constructive criticism you may have. I am still new to , so I imagine there will probably be areas I can improve on.

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom

The rain lashed down in pity for the boy, who was too young to be called the man he thinks he is. His shoulders are stooped with responsibility and his hand, out-stretched, searching. An emptiness fills his eyes, which glisten a sombre blue under a fringe, saturated with water.

He knows only two facts about his existence, at this moment:

1. He is Danny Fenton, the halfa.

2. He is on the verge of remembering.

He has no idea how long he has been sitting there, outside Fenton Works. Nor does he know why. If he was to guess, he'd say that he has always been there and that it has always been raining, for there is no way for him to judge. The puddles swell, ripples shooting veins of ochre light across them in a bizarre dance of streetlights and the neon sign on the outside of his house. What exactly happened? There must have been something before this – some reason for me to be sitting here…but what? Thoughts bounce around a sleeping mind, one that returns no answer.

Standing up, he sees a light in the house. His parents must still be awake, even though it's late. Danny winces as he steals a glimpse at his watch. 22.30; Long after his curfew.

"Great! That's the second time this week – I'm so grounded for this!" The words fall out with surprising conviction, yet upon hearing them he is sure that this is true. Shrugging his shoulders he enters, the door giving way before he has chance to turn his key.

"And where have you been, young man?" Came the voice of the imposing, bulk that was Jack Fenton.

"Out."

"Out, where?" His father asks threateningly, "Does it have anything to do with that ghost punk?" His eyes narrow to mere slithers, so thin that they could have been sewn together.

"What?" that was unexpected. "N-no! For God's sake! All you guys ever think about is ghosts – people can actually have a day without ghosts being part of it, you know." He pauses, but Jack's scepticism forces him to explain further. "…I was round at Sam's with Tucker, busting out the new Nightmerica movie, okay?" it all comes out in an unstoppable torrent, but the minute he's said it, he instantly regrets it.

"Well…alright then, son." He lets Danny pass, taken aback and, now wide-eyed, at the sudden outburst. Then he realises, it was probably just a teenage tantrum and he shouldn't think any more of it.

"I'm going to my room." He murmurs, with a voice like gravel. His eyes seem magnetised to the floor, in shame.

Smoothing the wet hair from his eyes, he flops onto his bed. Ugh, why do I feel so stressed today? Sure, Lancer was on my case at school, but I chilled out with the guys; I should be fine. He stares up at the ceiling, eyes tracing the swirling lines of the plaster, perhaps a night time flight would do him good. The rain in his eyes, affecting his vision was a hindrance, but that was what made it so exhilarating. The thought of it made his body yearn for the adrenaline of defying gravity. Plus, it would be worth practising, in case he ever had to fight a ghost on a rainy day. It was a poor justification and he knew it, but it was just enough to convince him.

He swung his feet over the edge of the bed, trainers collided with floorboards.

"Going ghost!" He cried, fist-pumping the air. Nothing happened. Yet, for the first time he realises his throat is sore. Why's it feel like I've been shouting? Unless I used my Ghostly Wail… that'd explain why I can't go ghost…

With a sigh he plonks himself back down on the bed. He rakes a hand through his damp hair, as if he could probe his mind for information by doing so; knowing that something was fundamentally wrong, but also that he couldn't do anything about it until he knew what it was. Maybe things will make more sense in the morning. I ought to go to sleep; I've got school tomorrow.

Morning came, with spears of light, piercing the thin cotton curtains. The light blinded him, momentarily, as sleep ridden eyes processed the harsh remnants of a shattered dream, where nothing is as it seems. Whatever he had intended on finding out last night had fallen to the same oblivion that belongs to forgotten dreams, and it would be some time before he would remember again. A quick glance at his alarm clock told him it was already eight in the morning.

"Danny you're gonna be late for school!" his sister, Jazz, shouted through the locked door.

"I'll be fine." He called back in a hoarse, fatigue-ridden grumble. I can just fly to school anyway. She knows that. So why's she on my case today? He shrugged it off, probably just the returning habit of an over-bearing older sister. Her footsteps fell away, down the hall.

He pulled a t-shirt over his head and put on some comfy jeans and trainers; made himself ready for the day. He determined to change his clothes further by trying to change into Danny Phantom. Nothing happened. No rings formed; no hair was bleached; ghostly glow was extinguished still and his attire remained unchanged.

"Guess I'll have to take the bus, then." Jazz'll probably have already gone by now.

"But dude, you have ghost powers! You shouldn't have to take the bus." Tucker exclaimed.

"I know…but for some reason I just can't go ghost!"

"Well, now you know what it's like for everyone else, just like you've always wanted." A smile played like trapped lightning, in her lavender eyes.

"Gee thanks, Sam! Is that supposed to make me feel better, or worse?" He pouted with crossed arms. She just laughed.

"Neither. I'm just saying, be careful what you wish for" another laugh boiled over. "And that's coming from me!" she added, remembering a previous adventure, where she had wished she'd never met Danny. "Dreams have a funny way of coming true in this town, don't they?"

All this gained her was a sullen look and a murmur of confirmation. Yes, wishes did come true in this town, but never in a good way: always at the hands of ghosts.

"I just don't get why this is happening to you now, man." Said Tucker. "It's not like we've seen much of Desiree since Paulina's birthday."

"Yeah? Um, I know this is going to sound really, weird, guys, but what happened last night? Did anything happen to me?" He keeps his voice low, embarrassed to have to ask and ashamed to have forgotten. Sam and Tucker shared a glance, as both questioning his sanity and debating how much should be revealed, at the same time.

"What do you mean, Danny?" Sam asked, slowly, stalling for time.

With a sigh he said about his sore throat, powerlessness and above all lack of memories. Yet, the more detail he spoke about it, the less certain of it he was. How can I be taking this so seriously? So what if I've got a sore throat and my powers are on the blink? It's happened before.

"You don't remember? We all went round to mine and watched some movies in the games room; then it got to about nine and you said that you were going to go home. Nothing happened. To be honest…it was probably the most normal things have been, since you got your powers, Danny." She smiles, but it's marred with pity and confusion.

"Oh yeah! Sorry, guys." He tries to sound genuine and the memories are only just returning, but the feeling of recognition is lost from them. It is as though they have only just been planted into his mind, rather than being his own. "Guess I was more tired, than I thought I was." He jokes, but why? He wonders. If we were watching Nightmerica films, I shouldn't have been able to sleep, let alone feel tired.

So, what's happening to Danny? You'll just have to sit tight and keep reading, my dears! Let me know what you think and don't forget to rate and review, or whatever the system is on here! :P

Psycho x