Author's Note: Welcome to my fic. I feel that some explaination is in order before we begin. First of all, this story is being reposted. It recieved some decent response when I first put it up, but I took a long time in between chapters and many of the later - and better - ones had no reviews. However, I have posted it on a couple of Danny Phantom forums, including the Official Butch Hartman forum, where it recieved some very nice responses from some fellow writers whose fanfiction is awesome. It gives me the warm fuzzies to see their reviews.

Also important to note is that this is the first in a trilogy, and as such it's purpose is mainly to lay backstory. It does introduce several original characters - the best I have ever written - but the traditional DP characters do not get lost, I promise you.

So, welcome to Reaching, part one in my Revelations trilogy. Contained within are mentions of murderous plots, villainry, an exploration of siblinghood in several different forms, a scene where I just needed to get some characters out of there, and Casper High being partly demolished.

THE RATING OF THIS FIC IS... debatable. I put it under T, just in case, but I feel it's something between a K+ and a T. If your over 11, you should be good to go.

Here's the prologue. Chapter one will be up soon.

Prologue: Portal

The night is clear and starry as the waxing moon shines upon a tall brick townhouse with an odd array of gadgetry on the roof. A large sign blinks 'Fenton Works' in neon green and pink – or rather, it normally would blink. Due to an incident earlier in the week, it is half burned out, blinking just "Ton Orks". Within the house, the two adults sleep soundly in their double bed, with the occasional mutter of "Ghosts" coming from the man as he clutches his teddy bear.

The next room over holds a sixteen-year old, red headed girl, still awake at this late hour. Light spills over her own teddy bear collection, some of the heads meticulously sewn back on by her brother while under close observation. The clock on her desk flashes the time – 12:16 – as she scribbles in her notebook, her cyan eyes flickering over the words. As she jumps slightly when she hears a slight thump, a car door slamming in the street below, then looks at the clock. Sighing, she puts down her notebook, and pads gently down the hall to another room.

She opens a door and peeks into another room, her brother's, with a feeling that she will see something she will not exactly like. True, she had seen him go to bed, but she knew that with her brother, that was no guarantee that he was even in the house. It is dark in the room, but she can see by the light of his clock – 12:20, it is faster than hers – that he is not in his bed. The covers had not even changed from the rumpled pile he had left them in this morning.

A knowing, concerned, slightly wry look flickers across her concerned face – she knows that nothing will keep her brother in bed, where he should be, if there is something he thinks he needs to do – and she replaces the door, walking back to her room to get some sleep. She worries about her brother, but she also knows that there are things he feels that he has to do, and she has found that she can live with that. Until he smartens up and tells her his secret, at least.

The clock in the boy's room now reads 2:37 as a humanoid shape phases straight through the wall of the second-story room, bluish light radiating from him, lighting the scene. With an exhausted sigh, the slightly injured boy – a shallow scratch and a few bruises – lands on the floor, his white hair and bright green eyes set off by his odd, mostly-black suit with white gloves.

Twin rings, white bordered by an electric blue, pass over the boy's waist and move to his head and toes, and the glow stops. His hair is now a raven's wing, his eyes a bit bluer than his sister's. The black and white suit has been replaced by normal pajamas. He moves his shoulder the wrong way and winces. He flinches again when he sees the time – he had meant to be home well over an hour ago. By the light of the thin, waxing moon coming through his window, he straightens out his covers and tries to go to sleep.

Down the stairs, past the kitchen, down another flight of stairs, lies the basement. Worktables and odd mechanisms litter the room. An alien gateway is on one wall, its own timepiece reading 2:39:32, counting out the seconds. Suddenly, the portal opens to reveal a swirling green vortex. Something emerges.

A girl stands there, young. Her hair forms an eerie, sunset-colored halo around her head, flowing behind her face. She is dressed like a dancer in a leotard under her singed T-shirt and tattered sweatpants, along with dancing shoes, all glowing green. Her face registers confusion, and then something else.

Fear.

As the metal portal clangs shut, the girl looks around the laboratory, then stops, head cocked as if listening, nostrils flared as if to scent the air. "She's here too. He's after her?" her confused whisper was so soft that even if anyone else was in the room, they would not have heard it. It was a thought aloud to an uncaring universe.

As the girl flutters up from the dank basement and into the night, a single word lingers on the morbid air of the laboratory.

"Protect…"

Ending Author's note: Yes, I know it's annoying. But my muse, Lia, is insisting that I mention that while any and all reviews are welcome, PLEASE use proper grammar and spelling. Otherwise, she tends to have to run off sneazing. She's allergic to that sort of thing.

Thank you!