Danny sat on the edge of the dock, his legs dangling over the side. His blue eyes stared at the water's reflection and followed around a small fish that circled around the surface out of pure curiosity. Rhythmically, he continued to reel in his lure, but wasn't paying too much attention to the line at all.

Tucker was a few yards away, casting his line far into the lake. So far they hadn't caught very much, but the last couple of days had been nothing but quiet relaxation in some beautiful scenery. Danny admitted they he was enjoying himself immensely. They hadn't drank any alcohol, and Danny hadn't been disturbed by any forces of evil. Tomorrow, they were going to go hiking.

Still, he couldn't totally relax.

Danny found that his mind kept wandering back to Samantha. Every stray thought involved her. A little trickle of anxiety dampened his lightened spirit when he thought of how far away she currently was from his side.

It must be that he was spending too much time with her. She had become too much of a crutch for him. Maybe this trip apart from her was better than he first thought.

But as he pondered about it more deeply, a sudden thought flashed in the front of his brain and a wave of nausea overtook him. Clarity swept away the fog that had been clouding his mind the past several months, in one instance.

He thought of the conversation he had with Sam when they were laying in the grass. He hadn't thought of it until now, but something had been missing about her. He had been too wrapped up in his own self-pity to see it then.

Sam was losing her fiery glow. There was no more light in her eyes.

Why hadn't he realized it sooner?

His grip on his fishing pole loosened a bit and he bit his lip. A horrible sensation of panic grabbed hold of him and the left side of his chest began to tense and tighten. Heart racing and breathing turning rapid, he knew after a few moments that he was having a panic attack, and most times a panic attack meant he was having a relapse. But this time was different; he wasn't aching just for drugs, he was also dying to see Sam's face again, blushed and bright with a beautiful, wide smile.

She wasn't happy anymore, and it was his fault.

Oh, what had he been doing this whole time? She had told him that she was still in love with him, and he hadn't taken that to heart. Meanwhile, she had spent every waking moment by his side because he couldn't handle being alone anymore. So not fair… What price had Sam paid for her undying loyalty?

Did she hate him now? The thought of it made his hands reach instinctively for his pockets, where he normally would have some sort of narcotic for safekeeping. He remember then that his pockets were empty. Tucker had plucked all of his pant-pockets clean before they left for the lake this morning. The only thing Danny had was that bottle of prescription pills hidden away in his bag, back at the cabin.

A cold sweat came over his body as the panic settled in. In training exercises during his rehab therapy, the doctors would tell him to sit down, control his breathing, and to tighten his grip on something malleable, to give a sensation of being in control. There wasn't much around, so Danny scrapped up a handful of grass and soil and squeezed hard.

For what felt like forever, he sat, breathing hard and quietly, while clenching and unclenching his handful of dirt. But nothing seemed to help. The image of Samantha's pale, emotionless face would not leave his mind.

"She hates me!" he cried under his breath. His hands flung the dirt away and the fishing pole dropped into the water.

Tucker was several yards away, casting a line into the lake, and didn't even notice Danny transform to his ghost form and float away towards the cabin.

There, Danny now sat in his unfamiliar room, and began popping the pills, one by one. Still, his heart quivered with this newfound fear that he was truly alone. Thanks to the way he had treated Valerie, she was gone from his life, and soon Sam would leave him, too, wouldn't she? His eyes began to droop…

His mind was getting hazy, but in the last few moments of consciousness, he had typed out a number and two words on his cell phone keypad.

Then, his hand went limp.


Tucker had noticed Danny was gone only a few minutes after he had fled the scene. A feeling of dread dropped a weight like lead to the pit of his stomach.

"No, Danny, no," was all he could murmur as he dropped his fishing pole and began to race back towards the cabin, praying to God that he wasn't too late.


Three hours later...

A familiar techno tone began to ring on Sam's personal phone. Furrowing her brows, she made her way towards her kitchen counter where it lay. She knew who's ringtone it was, but…Tucker was on vacation. Why would he call?

Fear and instinct made her hand hover over the phone, imagining the worst.

The next moment forever changed her life.