Yay reviews! Thank you all reviewers for your take on my story, and for welcoming me to FF! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

I own my OC's, but Danny Phantom belongs to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon Studios. 'Sides, if I owned him, he wouldn't be as awesome. XD

Chapter 1

Five months later...

". . . and I'll show him how to swing on the swings and I'll give him piggy-back rides whenever he wants and . . ."

Lounging out in the baby blue nursery, the toddler's mother listened to her articulate-than-most daughter go on about what she would do once her baby brother is born while absentmindedly caressing her very swollen belly. It was merely a week ago she got an ultrasound and found that she was going to have a baby boy, and the family got even more excited. Her husband was currently trying to put together the crib, probably daydreaming of the day he will teach his son of their 'family business.' Their little girl actually seemed relieved upon learning that her sibling will be a boy.

"Because he'll only play with his boy-toys, and not my toys!" she had said.

The mother let out a soft laugh at the adorable memory, then let out a surprised gasp. Both of her husband and daughter now paid full attention to her, the former frowning in concern.

"Ah, it's nothing to worry about," she reassured them. "The baby's just kicking, that's all."

Their eyes widened in awe.

"Can I feel your tummy, Mommy?" she eagerly asked for them both.

"Sure. You too, honey."

The toddler laid her ear and the man his hand against her belly. A moment later, the girl whipped her head up in excitement.

"I felt him, Mommy! I felt him kicking!"

"And that's quite some kick, too!" The father chuckled. "He's gonna be one lively boy."

"I'm sure he'll grow up to be a great person someday," the mother said. "Whatever he decides to grow up to be, we will be right behind him every step of the way, because we love him. Right, sweetie?"

"Mmhm!" the girl nodded, then turned to her mother's belly. "You hear that, baby brother? We all love you lots and lots and lots!"

The father ruffled her hair as he let out a hearty laugh. "Couldn't have said better myself, princess."

.. .. .. .. ..

It was dark in here, but it was safe and secure. From the first time consciousness realized itself, this was the only world he knew and that regular beating around him was the first music he'd ever heard. Now, new otherworldly sounds have made themselves known to him. It alarmed him at first, but soon found them nearly as familiar as that beat. He did not know where they're coming from nor understand what they meant, but there was something about them that made him happy, a warmth blossoming from within. He did not know the word for this phenomenon, but he had first experienced this ever since he came into being. Love.

Hovering in midair in front of the screen as always, the young ghost's usually blank gaze had taken on a faint glimmer of fascination. She had kept her eye on this particular family for quite a while, charmed by their closeness with each other. The little girl's unconditional declaration of love for her unborn sibling twitched her stiff lips into an alien smile, amused and humbled at the same time. It was such a pity; this relatively was a rarity in the Living World.

The arrival of a presence broke her out of her reverie and turned her head sleepily to find her companion beside her. His pale and scarred face was as blank as ever, though she detected something off in his scarlet eyes. In all the short time – for a ghost – she had known him, this meant he knew something. Of course he knew everything, but this must be something of importance. Though, she refrained from asking; he would only just say that irritating line of his. This unsettled her and her smile vanished without the slightest trace.

Four months later...

"WAAaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

Unearthly screams echoed throughout the waiting area of the delivery wing. Nurses and doctors went on about in their business, unfazed by the noise since things like these came with the job and have long gotten used to it.

A little redhead girl had her hands clamped over her ears, unsure of whether to be worried or be exasperated by it all. Right next to her was an African-American soon-mother-to-be, a long-time family friend. Looking at the double doors where the screams originated, she was worried for her best girlfriend, but was aware that this was something to be expected. After all, this moment was just like the day this intelligent little angel next to her was coming into this world. She patted her own stomach, wondering what it would be like when her time comes.

A creak of a chair dragged her attention towards her husband on her other side. Knuckles white and eyelids stretched to their limit, he was an image of absolute horror. He thought he would never experience this brand of terror again two years later. He always admired his respective best friend as one would admire a soldier gone to the front of a great battle and survived. He even had the horrid blue-black bruises that prevented the use of his left hand for weeks afterward as proof of it. The clammy-faced man stole a glance at his wife and realized it was a terrible mistake, for he just reminded himself that he would have to go through the same ordeal very soon.

. . . . .

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

The calm, content mother was no more and in her place, was a very flushed banshee with a plan in mind for her husband when this torture ends. The husband in question could only whimper as his wife crushed his left hand. Again. It was a good thing he saved up this time, in case he got more than just bruises.

"How dare you do this to me again! How dare yo-AAAAHHHHH!"

The massive man let out a brief, undignified shriek of his own as she squeezed his hand harder, if that was even possible. The doctor assisting with the delivery tried to calm her for a bit with some encouraging words, only to receive the brunt of her pain-induced wrath.

.. .. .. .. ..

He too was upset. His cozy haven contracted violently, as if to push him out. Why? What had he done wrong? He twisted and felt something sinuous encircle him. This something has always been there, so he was only irritated by this thing restricting him. He twisted again and pulled at his arms and legs, trying to get the thing off. An unpleasant feeling began to pool within his being and he had his first taste of worry.

It – It hurts!

Worry quickly morphed into panic.

.. .. .. .. ..

The woman panted, having screamed 'til her throat was raw. All of a sudden, a strange feeling came over her and her instincts began to scream that something was out of place.

"So – Something isn't right," she said to her husband in a hoarse voice.

"Doctor!" a nurse cried in alarm. "Something's wrong. The baby's in severe distress!"

The doctor's face became grave, "What? Now?" She then frantically murmured to herself, "This is bad. He's too far along for caesarean. . . time's running out."

The doctor then turned to the now frightened parents, "Okay sweetie, we have to do this quickly. Now, take a deep breath and give a nice, strong push. . ."

The mother did just that. Taking in a ragged breath, she pushed with all her might. For the sake of her baby.

.. .. .. .. ..

It burned. It burned so much. Pain tore his little body from the inside out. It was dreadful! He never knew he could feel anything like this. He wished for it to stop and thrashed about in desperation, but it was all in vain. His energy was sapped and his struggles grew weaker and weaker. Where the pain started have now become numb, which spread throughout him, overtaking the pain. Although he wasn't hurting anymore, his senses and consciousness were gradually fading and his surroundings grew cold. It was peaceful in a strange way, but he fought it back. Whatever was happening to him, it was taking him away from that warmth and that beating music . . . and those sounds that gave him that wonderful, wonderful feeling. He can't go! He wanted to know . . . where they came from . . . he wanted to know . . . those that loved him . . .

.. .. .. .. ..

With a final cry of pain, she pushed until she felt something give away. A weary smile crept onto her haggard face, but it vanished far quicker than it appeared. The doctor's face blanched as she held her baby. There was no noise of movement. There was no cry.

The doctor had smiled too when the baby came, but as she assessed him with a practiced sweep of her eyes, she felt her insides plunge into ice. The limp, little body was of a bluish tinge and entangled with his cord, around his limbs and his neck. My god, his neck! He was getting cold.

Far too slow – or what it felt like to her – she called out to her nurses, to have everything ready to revive the baby. Ignoring the terror-stricken cries of the parents, she hurriedly untangled the baby, clamped and cut his cord, and wrapped him up in a blanket to bring over to the other side of the room, where the equipment was ready. She did all whatever trick and technique she knew and even tried any advice and suggestions the nurses threw at her way, but it has been too long. There was absolutely no chance he would cough back to life. The baby's dead.

The mother no longer screamed out of pain and anger, but out of fear and desperation for her baby. Something terrible has happened and she had no idea what! Her husband, on the hand, was barely held back by the rest of the nurses, demanding what has happened to his son. Finally, after what felt like forever, the doctor walked back to them with a deep blue bundle in her arms. Her face was an emotionless mask, but no one can deny the defeat in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," was all she ever said.

The redheaded mother stretched out her trembling hands, expectant. The doctor carefully placed the bundle in her hands, turned and signalled for her crew of nurses to leave the family to grieve and to notify the others outside of the burdensome news.

The parents leaned down on the bundle in the mother's arms, who parted the blanket with stiff fingers. He was beautiful. His skin was so clean and fair like a porcelain doll, so precious, yet fragile. A mop of jet-black hair fell delicately above his eyes, which if they were open, they would have thought they were looking at the spring sky. The father tentatively took his son's tiny hand with his massive paw. It was cold.

The woman's shoulders shook violently as she clutched her baby boy close to her shattered heart, head hung over in despair. Weak sobs emanated from her, all of her strength spent on the lost battle. Her husband enveloped them in a hug, tears cascading on his awfully solemn face like waterfalls.

The young ghost no longer hovered in air as she usually did, but instead, stood on legs unstable from dread. It's not fair! she cried out in her mind. The family had such a bright future ahead of them. The boy had a bright future ahead of him. She knew that there was nothing she could have done, however, she can't help but feel helpless – useless! If there was a chance, she would have taken it immediately, unlike back then. . . Her eyes widened briefly before squeezing them shut and seizing her head.

No! I must not think of it! Forget it! she screamed silently to herself, forcing back an onslaught of unwanted memories.

A gloved hand clapped heavily on her shoulder, nearly keeling her over. She glanced up at the hand's owner, thankful for the distraction that enabled her to rein herself in. Though, one look at his sympathetic eyes made her anger flare for a moment, before she snuffed it out. To blow up on him was irrational and a waste of time. He knew everything, and this tragedy was no exception. His lack of action simply meant that this must come to pass, among other tragedies in history and those yet to come in the future.

What a morbid way to spend your eternity, she thought to herself, aware of how much of an understatement it was.

"I have a task for you," her companion's deep voice started her out of her thoughts.

He removed his hand from her shoulder to hand her a package that he had in the crook of his arm, with which he held his staff. She stared at the thing he just gave her. It was a folded up piece of soft black cloth held together by a white ribbon. A ribbon of all things! She sent an incredulous look at the other ghost, who had floated over the viewing screen to switch the image of the torn family with a map, casting a green glow upon the room. With his staff, he pointed to a spot on the map.

"I need you to go here," he enigmatically said. "Once you get there, well, you'll know what to do."

She raised a brow in response, but never made any indication to refuse his command. Due to his important position, he couldn't freely travel anywhere, in exception to dire situations. Besides, it wasn't like she can refuse him. She nodded in affirmation. The younger ghost leapt high into the air, morphing her legs into a faded grey spectral tail and shot out of the Clocktower to her destination.

The elder watched her fly out of the tower before turning back to his viewing screen, which had switched back to the grieving family.

O.o My gawd, I'm so cruel! This is the most terrible death I've ever concocted! I'm sorry, little baby!

*ahem*

With that aside, I'd just you to know that I will do updates during weekends, due to school and all. If you notice any typos or weird grammar/mistakes, please kindly point them out to me so I can fix it. If the death scene feels unrealistic, I apologize. Thank you for reading and please review!